The Forever Friends
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Complete! Three thousand years ago, a brutal murder ended a love story and shattered a friendship. Now, in 1933, three months after the events at Ahm Shere, the story is about to begin again.
1. Prologue: A Place in Between

Disclaimer: Ardeth Bey, the extended Carnahan-O'Connell family, Imhotep and Anck-su-namun do not belong to me. They belong to Stephen Sommers and Alphaville. However, the Ferguson family (Celia, Jason, Miranda, et al), the Bey family, assorted Med-jai, and Khaldun do belong to me. I don't mind if you borrow them. Just please return them intact, and give credit where credit is due.  
  
Author's Note: I know I'm not the only one who noticed this continuity error in the timeline between the first movie and the second. So, I've adjusted things a little. There were seven years between Imhotep's risings, not nine. Also, Anck-su-namun will play a rather unusual role in this story.  
  
Finally, just a warning. I do ignore things from the movies when it doesn't make sense to me. So if you see something that contradicts the movie, it's because the original made no sense to me, no matter how hard I tried to reconcile it. I think most writers will agree that they have to write according to their own instincts. If you disagree with something I wrote because your instincts are different, no worries. I have no problem with people who disagree with me. Just with people who give me a hard time for seeing things as I do. As such, all flames will be handed over to Imhotep for proper disposal. Those things being said, on with the fic!  
  
Prologue: Between Two Worlds  
  
She cast herself into the pit of scorpions when her traitorous body carried her away from her beloved. She lost control twice within the last hour. . .but this time, she would not relinquish control. Once more, Anck- su-namum found herself in the Underworld. Or was she? The former concubine looked around, confused. This was neither the Underworld nor the Afterworld. This was nothing she saw before.  
  
//That, dear child, is because you have never been here.// Anck-su- namun whipped around to face the source of the voice. She could see nothing. . .nothing except a young woman. A living woman, in the living world. She was small and slender with curly dark hair and dark eyes. She couldn't see her face. . .but she seemed familiar to Anck-su-Namun. The voice said again, //Do you recognize her, Anck-su-namun? Do you recognize the soul of the woman? The very first person whom you betrayed, even before Seti?//  
  
Anck-su-namun bit back a cry. She did, indeed. And in her mind, she could see her as she was when they were slaves in Thebes. The Egyptian girl from the very lowest of the slums, blessed or cursed with a striking beauty, and the shy young slave. Both destined to die for the men they loved. She could hear the other girl calling her 'Anck' in her mind, could hear her friend's laughter. And she whispered, 'Ardath?'  
  
//Her name is no longer Ardath, but she does, indeed, carry the soul of your lost friend. You were not always as you are now, Anck-su-namun. You have achieved terrible deeds, but the fault was not yours alone. Nefertiri was given the chance to redeem herself, for turning away from those who needed her. . .she was forgiven, and moved ahead. Rameses was given the chance to redeem himself, and again, he succeeded. The only two remaining are yourself and Imhotep.//  
  
Anck-su-namun lowered her eyes when he spoke of her love. And she *did* love him. She stopped fearing the Underworld long ago. . .feared only losing him. But Meela's instincts for self-preservation were much stronger than her own. Anck-su-namun wondered briefly where Meela was, and decided she didn't care. Meela was no longer her concern. Ardath and Imhotep were.  
  
She loved Ardath as her own sister, from the moment the two girls met. Despite her name, Ardath was not Hebrew. She was found by the Hebrew slaves in a field of flowers, hence her name, when she was four years old. She couldn't remember the name she was given at birth, and her coloring was unusually fair. That was how she ended up as a household slave. . .how she and Anck-su-namun met.  
  
Anck-su-namun looked back at the source of the voice, asking, 'What do you want of me?' She tried to sound. . .defiant. Strong. Anything but how terrified she was. But her voice came out as little more than a squeak. The source of the voice simply laughed. Anck-su-namun, above all, knew what she did. Knew about the lives she destroyed. Knew what she was, made no apologies or excuses. The Underworld didn't frighten her.  
  
This talk of second chances. . . that frightened her. She made no excuses for herself or what she did. But she feared making the same mistakes twice. She already did that, when she reawakened fully in Meela, at Karnak. But at the same time, she was exhilarated by the idea. She was shown Ardath, whom she wronged so terribly. Did that mean she would have a chance to make things right with her only true friend?  
  
//Among others, young one. I cannot tell you how you may make amends, for you will not have a physical body. Each time we have attempted that, it has been a disaster. But you still have the ability to help your friend, who is called by another name now. And when the time is right, you will know what to do. Not many are given second chances, Anck-su-namum. Take care that you do not waste this chance, as you have wasted others.//  
  
The former concubine inclined her head, both in acceptance and in understanding, though she burned with questions. She learned her lesson. . .patience truly was a virtue. And if she could make things right with Ardath, sweet Ardath, perhaps in time she could find a way to make things right with Imhotep as well. She was less concerned with Nefirtiri, who was a spoiled brat. But Imhotep and Ardath were the two most important people in her life.  
  
'One last question, if you please? Who. . .are you?'  
  
The figure emerged from the shadows, and Anck-su-namun gasped. She saw this man before. She saw him at Ahm Shere. But he wasn't entirely a man at the time. The man bowed his dark head, answering, 'In life, I was called 'Mathayus.' But like you, I committed terrible evils, one of which led to my ruin. You knew me as the Scorpion King. . .and this is part of my penance. The great goddess Ma'at saw something good remaining within me. . .just as she saw it in you.' Then Anubis did not receive all of his soul! Or did he? Anck-su-namun tried to work through that in her mind.  
  
Then she realized, it no longer mattered. He was given a second chance. Perhaps, like her, he just had to wait for it. She inclined her head to him once more, this time in respect. Mathayus smiled and said, 'Until that time, Anck-su-namun, you will wait with me. You will watch this new incarnation of your friend. . .you will learn about her. And perhaps, you will come to love her as well.'  
  
He paused, and the scene changed. It was modern day Cairo, and Anck- su-namun hissed at the man shown, 'Med-jai!' A sound warned her and she looked back up at Mathayus. His dark eyes blazed with anger. . .with her. Not with the Med-jai. She started to protest, tell him that the Med-jai helped to defeat his troups, remind him of what all the Med-jai did. . .until she remembered that this wasn't the Scorpion King whom her love faced.  
  
'You will need his aid, if you wish to protect your friend, Anck-su- namun,' Mathayus warned, 'and remember. . .it was not Ardeth Bey who performed the hom-dai on your love. It was not even his ancestor. The present day Med-jai are as much victims of that foolishness as Imhotep.' Anck-su-namun began to shake her head, but Mathayus continued, 'Yes. Imagine, Anck-su-namun, spending your entire life, guarding a pile of sand because your ancestors acted out of grief and guilt, and damned you as well as themselves and another.'  
  
She didn't want to hear it. Mathayus sighed, 'Then you would make the same mistakes again and hold the son of your soul-sister accountable for the mistakes of the previous generation.' Anck-su-namun looked at him in astonishment. Mathayus nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from her, adding, 'He, too, was Med-jai.'  
  
'He refers to my love as the Creature,' Anck-su-namun retorted defiantly, not wanting to believe her companion. She heard Mathayus in her head, //and that is what your love became. No longer human. If Ardeth Bey thought of him as human, he would lose sight of how easily Imhotep could kill him. If he calls him a man, he begins to believe he could be defeated as easily as a mortal man. . .and you know that is not true.//  
  
She could not argue with that truth. Were the Med-jai chieftain to think of her love as a simple, ordinary man, he would die. It was disconcerting, seeing this from a different perspective. Disconcerting was actually an understatement. Anck-su-namun felt the world as she knew it for the last three thousand years tilting underneath her. Her hatred of Seti, her hatred of the Med-jai. She asked, 'Does he. . .does he. . .?'  
  
She wasn't sure what she was asking, but Mathayus did. He said gently, 'Yes, Anck-su-namun. . .he does see what you are now learning. But still he does his duty, as he must, because the consequences of failure are too high.' She didn't want to hear that. Didn't want to feel any sympathy for this grim-faced man clad entirely in black. But then she saw her forever friend, and her breath caught in her throat as she understood. If only for this moment, she withdrew her animosity from the Med-jai chieftain, for he had it within his power to save her forever friend.  
  
And that was all it took. 


	2. Pleased to Meet You

Jessica (Imhotep's Lover): Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it. The story is actually complete, I'm just reformatting it so it's readable.  
  
Lauren (NefertiriOC): Yes, m'dear, more is on the way. I just got caught behind the eight ball. I never really saw someone take this kind of approach with Anck, and I dearly love doing things that are unique.  
  
Deana: You know, kiddo, I think those are the two words you use most: 'post more!' Never mind, it is greatly appreciated.  
  
Part One  
  
Cairo Egypt, 1933  
  
He just kept getting further and further away, while she continued to lag behind with their luggage and her daughter. Celia ground her teeth, but focused her anger on staying upright and staying strong for her little girl. She swore to whoever was listening that if she and Miranda were captured by brigands and sold, her younger brother would be the first one whom she came back and haunted, and then whoever killed her.  
  
Drat that little fool, did he really think this was Chicago? Did he think she asked him to accompany her because she was the coward he assumed her to be? Celia knew the answer to that question, of course. Yes. Jason assumed that every place was like Chicago, and that his sister and niece would be as safe on the streets of Cairo as they would be in Chicago, so long as she stayed out of the way of CERTAIN PEOPLE.  
  
As if hearing her very thoughts, her brother yelled back impatiently, 'Hurry up, Cecelia!' Celia responded with a truly ugly glare, which turned into a vindictive smile when she saw him run straight into a tall, black- clad man. Did she dare hope this was the meeting party promised by Evelyn? She quickly ran through the description provided by her friend: shoulder- length black hair, check; nicely trimmed beard, check; tattoos on cheeks and forehead, check; menacingly attractive, most assuredly a check.  
  
'It is unsafe for a woman and child to walk the streets of Cairo, unaccompanied,' the man stated. There was no room for compromise, no room for argument as he spoke. As he did, Celia found herself flanked by two men, one who looked determined and the other looked nervous. Her unexpected rescuer continued, slowly backing Jason up until he closed the gap between himself and the mother and daughter, 'Perhaps that is why you walked ahead? You wished them to be taken?'  
  
'Laying it on thick, aren't you, old man?' the nervous looking man asked. The dark eyes flickered back to the man, who flushed and looked away. By now thoroughly terrified, Miranda buried her face against Celia's skirt, and the mother put her hand on the child's head. While she was enjoying her younger brother's obvious discomfort, she also knew that the man in black was scaring her little girl. The nervous looking man added, 'Right, the brother is a rat bastard, but you're scaring the tyke, Ardeth.'  
  
Ardeth. What an unexpected name. The man inclined his head as he approached and replied, 'You have my apologies, Miss Ferguson, it was my intention to frighten your brother, not your child.' Celia smiled, impressed with the manners displayed by this man, and the man named 'Ardeth' knelt in front of Miranda, saying softly, 'I apologize to you as well, little one. . .I did not mean to alarm you. Might I see your face?'  
  
Celia's daughter turned her face slowly to the stranger, then the four year old asked, 'Why do you have those things on your face?' Celia blushed hotly until she heard the man chuckling, and saw the very genuine amusement in his eyes. Miranda's fear overridden with curiosity just that quickly, she turned to face the newcomer fully and asked, 'Do they hurt?'  
  
'Not any longer, but they did hurt when I first received them. Would you like to touch them?' the man asked. Celia couldn't see her daughter's face, but she did feel Miranda nodding so hard, Celia thought her head would come off her shoulders. The man took Miranda's small hand, gently guiding it to one cheek and Miranda traced the tattoo with the tip of her finger. The man said softly, 'My name is 'Ardeth,' little one, and what is yours?'  
  
'Jonathan, help the lady,' the blue-eyed man said. The man named 'Jonathan' started to protest, and the third man just glared at him. Jonathan immediately relieved Celia of a bag, and the man who just spoke took another bag, throwing it at Jason, adding, 'Here, make yourself useful. If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it. Who are you and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?'  
  
Ardeth Bey looked up with an impish grin, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter, but he said only, 'Paid no mind to him, little one. Would you like to ride on my shoulders, so you do not become separated from us?' Celia didn't have to see her daughter's face to know how Miranda would take that, but the little girl turned a hopeful look at the same time Ardeth Bey looked at the mother questioningly.  
  
'I think that would be just fine, but mind what Mr. Bey says, Miranda. Oh!' Celia gasped, finding another tattooed man in black at her side. He was much younger than Ardeth Bey, no more than twenty-five. Which would make him the same age as Jason. But there were no other similarities between her brother and this young man, who looked at her with large brown eyes and a solemn expression, to say nothing of curiosity.  
  
'This is my younger brother,' Ardeth Bey said, 'he will be making sure there are no attacks from the rear.'  
  
He added something in Arabic, or what Celia thought was Arabic, then swept forward, her daughter held firmly on his shoulders. Celia noticed that Ardeth still hadn't answered the question, and her companion muttered, 'He always does that, changes the subject when I ask him a question. Oh, sorry. I'm Rick O'Connell, Evy's husband, and you're Celia Ferguson. You've met Ardeth, and this is Evy's brother, Jonathan.'  
  
'It's a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for coming to meet us. I'm terribly sorry, were you waiting long? I'm afraid. . .' Celia began, and Rick O'Connell put his hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping her. The younger Bey called out in Arabic to his brother, who stopped and returned to them, his dark eyes intense. Celia found it hard to look away from those eyes, but Rick's hand on her chin drew her gaze back to him.  
  
'Now you listen to me. . .you were trying to hold onto a four year old girl, drag the luggage along, and make sure you didn't trip over your own skirt. You've got nothing to apologize for. . .understood? Ardeth, you tell her,' the American said. Again, Celia's gaze drifted to Ardeth Bey, who was regarding her with those eyes of his. Then, she looked at her daughter, now perched happily atop his shoulders.  
  
'He speaks the truth. . .you have done nothing which requires an apology. Come. We have only a little further to go,' he replied. Celia nodded her understanding, blinking back tears. It was stupid, to be crying because two handsome men treated you with kindness. But she was tired. It was a long journey, marked with arguments with Jason, who never failed to throw the most hurtful things in her face. Her lungs burned from trying to keep up with Jason, carry the luggage and hold onto Miranda.  
  
Now O'Connell put his arm around her shoulders, saying softly, 'While you're in Cairo, under my roof, you're family. Got it? You being here means a lot to Evy. She's been a nervous wreck ever since she found out that she's pregnant, and getting things ready for you has helped her a lot.' Celia smiled weakly, but made no answer. The vacation which had such a terrible start was now looking up.  
  
Hopefully, Jason wouldn't take it into his head to do anything stupid. She wouldn't put money on it, especially with the way he was glaring at her. She was surprised when a soft voice behind her said, 'He will not be permitted to harm you. My brother has given his word that no harm will come to you while in Egypt. My apologies, lady, my name is Anatol. And believe me when I say, as the chieftain of our people, my brother does not make promises lightly.'  
  
Two things occurred to her. First, the young man spoke English, and second, his name. She looked at him curiously and asked, 'Anatol? Isn't that a Greek name? Oh, never mind, I'm just being stupid.' Then something else occurred to her, and she asked, 'You say your brother is the chieftain of your people? Well, that certainly explains it. He has a very regal bearing.' O'Connell muttered something she didn't understand, but from the nasty look which Anatol shot him, she didn't think she wanted to understand.  
  
'You are not stupid to ask the question, lady. Yes, you are correct, Anatol is a Greek name. Our mother is Greek. It is a jest, amongst our people, that my mother, brother, and our sisters all have names beginning with 'A.' And my brother does have a regal bearing, does he not?' the young man asked, his eyes shining with pride as he looked at his older brother. It wasn't pride resulting from hero worship, blind and adoring, but genuine pride and affection.  
  
'WHHHHHHHEEE!' Miranda cried with delight, and Celia looked ahead as Ardeth lifted her from his shoulders, flipping her in a neat mid-air somersault. Celia was just grateful her daughter hadn't yet eaten, or it might have gotten ugly. She didn't want to imagine the quiet dignity of Ardeth Bey compromised by the mess her daughter would have made. That would have been the capping of a truly awful day.  
  
* * *  
  
Rick O'Connell decided three things while he, the two brothers, and Jonathan made their way to the stately manor where he lived with his wife and son while they were in Egypt. One, Ardeth Bey was holding out on him. Again. Two, Celia Ferguson had a bad habit of underestimating herself. Hell, he was surprised when he heard Anatol's name, and he didn't even know it was Greek! Three, he really didn't like Jason Ferguson.  
  
He almost hoped the little jerk did something stupid, like, go to Hamunaptra. On the other hand, they already fought Imhotep twice, the last time just a few months earlier. Rick almost lost everything that meant anything to him, in that battle. And Ardeth didn't walk away unscathed, either. Rick was willing to bet money that the scars on his friend's chest from the mummy warrior were still healing. And that wasn't even taking into account the loss of his 'best and most clever friend,' Horus.  
  
Rick's dislike of the young American grew exponentially as Jason whined, 'Well, how was I supposed to know Celia and 'Randa might be in danger if I left them alone? Celia didn't tell me!' Ardeth looked first at the youngster, then glanced at Rick and rolled his eyes. Rick struggled against a laugh, especially when Ardeth's dark eyes flickered next to his younger brother, walking behind them protectively.  
  
'I believe that is why your sister asked you to accompany her. . . I highly doubt it was for the pleasure of your company,' Anatol answered tartly. Rick's battle against his laughter intensified. This was the first time he met Anatol, and Rick was quickly coming to like him. The chieftain looked at his brother again as he approached the O'Connell manor, and Anatol continued, 'I speak the truth, brother, I've met more pleasant scorpions!'  
  
'Including the one we met just a few months ago, I wager,' Jonathan murmured and Anatol nodded emphatically. He was among the Med-jai troops who fought the Anubis Warriors in the desert surrounding Ahm Shere, as Rick just learned. In a somewhat louder voice, Rick's brother-in-law continued, 'I'm glad to see you heeded my baby sister's warnings, Miss Ferguson. Evy has been truly looking forward to your visit.'  
  
'And I've been looking forward to finally meeting her. I'm not sure if I ever told her this, but I should have. Her support to me, over the last five years, has meant a lot. And I'm really looking forward to helping her with whatever she's working on. I've been fascinated with ancient Egypt for years,' Celia Ferguson answered a bit breathlessly. Rick shouldn't have been surprised, a small young woman trying to keep up with someone who had several inches on her.  
  
'Ardeth, slow up. Her legs are shorter than ours,' Rick called. Ardeth turned once more, took in Celia's attempts to keep up with them. The American woman protested, saying that she had a four year old daughter she chased after on a regular basis and she would be fine. Yeah, Rick knew about chasing after kids, but she wasn't fine. She dragged heavy luggage from the ship until they met up, as well as protecting her child. Now, she was trying to keep up with the man carrying her child on his shoulders, and unless Rick missed his guess, her legs were about to give out on her.  
  
He kept her from protesting further by saying, 'You know, Ardeth and I could switch places. . .I could carry your daughter, and Ardeth could carry you.' As expected, her face turned bright red as she blushed to the very roots of her dark brown hair. She shook her head mutely, still looking embarrassed, and Rick was disconcerted to find himself on the receiving end of a disapproving look from Ardeth.  
  
The Med-jai chieftain said softly, 'There is no need for you to be shamed, Miss Ferguson. But remember, even the best of warriors need aid from time to time.' It was Rick's turn to look at his friend with a disapproving glare. That, coming from Ardeth Bey, was downright funny. Mr. 'I won't ask for help unless it's the end of the world' himself. Rick grinned when Celia looked at Ardeth, calling him on that statement.  
  
'What of you, Mr. Bey, do you take your own advice?' she asked. There was no real challenge in her voice, but a question. She continued, 'I have known soldiers, Mr. Bey, and you have 'soldier' written all over you. Can you take your own advice, even when someone needs you? Can you take your own advice, and take care of yourself? Ask for help?' She cocked her head to one side, staring at him intently.  
  
'Not always. It is not always an easy thing, asking for help,' Ardeth acknowledged, and Celia nodded her own confirmation. Ardeth continued, 'Perhaps we could remind each other of that.' Now, Celia smiled, her eyes lighting up, and Rick realized it was the first time he saw her smile since their meeting. That part of him which once dazzled females (until he met Evy) felt a little put out that it was Ardeth who made her smile like that, but the feeling didn't last long. Celia nodded and Ardeth continued, 'We are at the house. I will trust O'Connell to make sure neither of us reneges on our agreement.'  
  
'You bet I'll make sure. . .you can't even give me a straight answer when I ask if you're all right!' Rick retorted. A familiar, steely expression appeared in Ardeth's eyes, and thoroughly enjoying his friend's discomfort, Rick continued, 'This is the guy who, when he was injured in a bus. . .accident. . .answered the following way when I asked if he was all right. 'This was my first bus ride.' You bet I'll be making sure, Ardeth!'  
  
Celia giggled, but it was Miranda who exclaimed, 'That's a silly thing to say!' Rick totally lost it at that point. . .between Miranda's devastating honesty, Celia's giggles, and Ardeth's mock-indignant look at the little girl on his shoulders, he started laughing and couldn't stop. The Fergusons were here less than an hour, and already, they were turning his life upside down. That was fine, jJust as long as they didn't bring back Imhotep or the Scorpion King.  
  
. . .  
  
Anatol Bey was the youngest child of Suleiman and Altair, the last of three boys and two girls. Like his two brothers, he took an oath upon upon reaching manhood. To watch Hamunaptra and make sure He Who Shall Not Be Named would not rise up and bring about the end of the world. But the change in Anatol, from fun loving youngster to hardened warrior, began long before that day.  
  
He was only five years old when their father died. He barely knew Suleiman Bey, so the loss didn't affect him. However, the death of his oldest brother when he was nine was a different story. It began with the rape of his older sister, only days before Ardeth's seventeenth birthday, continued with the chase given by Ardeth and Andreas of the monster who attacked their sister, and ended with their eldest brother's death.  
  
Anatol memorized the features of the man who murdered his oldest brother and attacked his sister. Had sworn that he would kill that man, if Ardeth did not. After more than fifteen years and countless battles, his older brother did just that, in the jungles of Ahm Shere when he sliced open Lock-nah's throat. Anatol felt a fierce joy and pride in his brother, regretting only that he didn't witness that event. He witnessed his oldest brother's death, he should have seen things come full circle.  
  
However, he was here now, to take care of his elder brother. Ever since that day, sixteen years earlier, the youngest Bey became very protective of his older siblings. Losing Andreas devastated him. Yes, he was a warrior, and knew such things would take place. However, Lock-nah harmed his family repeatedly, and that was not easily forgiven. Now, unlike Ardeth, Anatol had no need to shield his heart. He had not the responsibility of the entire Med-jai tribe resting on his shoulders. He didn't even have the responsibility of a single tribe.  
  
No, Anatol's primary responsibility was to his remaining brother, his mother, and his sisters. Someone had to look after Ardeth, after all. He loved his brother, and Ardeth was always the greatest of his heroes. But as both Ardeth's brother and a Med-jai warrior, Anatol knew the chieftain often took priority over the man and the brother. Which meant Ardeth often put aside his own needs for rest and food until everyone else was taken care of. And ever since Ahm Shere, Anatol watched his brother growing quieter and more withdrawn.  
  
It was intolerable. And so was his solution, though Altair was pleased with it. She no more liked seeing Ardeth turning into an old man at the age of thirty-three than Anatol did. Anatol told the commanders of the Med-jai to deal with their own problems for a while, his brother was taking a holiday. Immediately. Many older men did not appreciate having their business told to them by a young man of twenty-five, but Anatol was Ardeth's brother, and he was just as stubborn as the chieftain.  
  
His brother would have this holiday, and he would have it because Anatol wasn't above using bribery or blackmail, or any other kind of deceit. He would use a trick to get his brother away from his responsibility for a time. Why should the commanders be any different? Why indeed, his mother told him when she learned of the confrontation, why indeed! She was so proud of him.  
  
And it didn't even take trickery for his brother to leave for Cairo. Rather, the trickery came in keeping him there, until Evy O'Connell spoke of a young woman who would be arriving from the United States with her younger brother and daughter. Her friend, Celia Ferguson, went through a difficult time in the last five years. The father of her daughter tricked her into bed with a bogus wedding ceremony, in the name of a bet.  
  
Anatol wanted the name of a man who would treat a woman so shamefully, but Evy didn't know. Celia never told her. . .she told her about the circumstances of her daughter's birth, and how she was no longer a member of 'polite society' because of the deceit. But that was it. Ardeth quietly observed that the young lady probably believed she was somehow at fault for not seeing through the man's deceit.  
  
Evy agreed and asked their help. She received the impression that the younger brother, Jason, was difficult. Difficult? More like impossible! Why did she allow him to treat her like that? If Anatol or Ardeth ever treated either of their sisters like that. . .well, they would be worse for wear the following morning. Altair taught her daughters to defend themselves from an early age. She, perhaps, saw a day when all of the men would be away, and it would be up to them to repel any invaders. A battle such as Ahm Shere.  
  
Still, Celia's little girl, Miranda, made Ardeth laugh. And Miranda's fearlessness reminded Anatol of his own sisters, who were and encouraged by their mother, so there was more to Celia Ferguson than what he was seeing. The young Med-jai looked again at his older brother. There was a time when he thought his two brothers could do anything. Then he learned they were just human beings who lived, made mistakes, and died. . .just like everyone else. There was nothing supernatural about his brothers, unless you counted their stubbornness.  
  
The young Med-jai stifled his laugh. . .there were times when his older sister Acacia, only a year younger than Ardeth, swore that the stubbornness shared by all five children was supernatural. Then again, Ardeth often wryly observed that Acacia lived up to her name, 'thorny,' though never within her hearing. Med-jai chieftain or not, older brother or not, she still would have left him in a world of hurt, and Ardeth knew it.  
  
Maybe that was why he couldn't understand Celia Ferguson's reluctance to remind her brother than he was younger than she. Maybe he and Ardeth should take Celia to their village, she and her daughter both. As the small party entered the O'Connell house, Anatol reconsidered that. He saw the way the young women in the village looked at his brother. And he didn't think Celia could deal with those who decided they would be the perfect wife for their chieftain. It wouldn't matter if Celia was Anatol's guest. . .she had access to Ardeth that they did not, and she was an outsider.  
  
'EVY! Alex! We're home!' O'Connell boomed out. Ardeth turned to look at Anatol, and the younger Bey brother caught his breath at the sadness in the eyes of the other. And then he remembered. Andreas always greeted them like that, when he came back from a battle. Not with those words, no, but he would call out as loudly as his voice would allow. Anatol wondered if Ardeth thought a lot lately about Andreas. He probably would, after finally dealing with their brother's murderer once and for all.  
  
Anatol had no more time to think, for even as he carefully closed the door behind him, a small blond rocket catapulted toward them, connecting solidly with Ardeth's waist. His brother wobbled for a minute, then righted both himself and Miranda. Before Ardeth could say anything, Miranda asked, 'Whozzat?' Alex O'Connell released Ardeth and stepped back, hearing the tiny voice way over his head. The younger Med-jai covered his mouth with his hand, seeing the look of pure astonishment on the boy's face.  
  
'Why, that's my son, Alex, and you must be Miranda. Your mum has told me a lot about you,' Evelyn O'Connell said, coming into the room behind her son. Ardeth lifted Miranda from her shoulders, once more somersaulting her in the air, before placing her carefully on the floor. Evelyn put her hand on her son's shoulder as she gave Ardeth a one-armed hug. Anatol watched in amusement as his brother awkwardly returned the embrace. He really had little experience with such affection, except among his sisters.  
  
Then again, he was chieftain at seventeen, and when Anatol was seventeen, he had far more opportunity to be a young boy. Oh, he was a warrior, but he was also still young and he knew himself to be not ugly. His brother, on the other hand, was totally blind about women's reaction to him. And what Anatol didn't hear for himself, his sister Acacia often told him. It was quite the education.  
  
A cough returned him to the manor, and Rick O'Connell said, 'Jonathan, why don't you and I take these bags upstairs to the room? Celia, I hope you don't mind, we thought you and Miranda would like to share a room.' The young American woman nodded. Jonathan Carnahan started to protest, but a glare from his brother-in-law quickly silenced him.  
  
'I will help, too, O'Connell,' Ardeth said quietly. Gently removing himself from Evy's embrace, the chieftain switched to Arabic, adding, 'Watch over them, my brother.' Anatol nodded, and Ardeth picked up one of the bags, following O'Connell and Jonathan upstairs. With his free hand, Ardeth snagged Jason by the collar, practically dragging him after him. Anatol grinned impishly. . .apparently, his brother liked him about as well as Anatol did. Not at all!  
  
. . .  
  
Anatol remained in the front room with the children, while Celia and Evy went into the kitchen for tea. Evy decided she liked the younger brother of her friend. He was quiet and courteous, but with a mischievous streak. He was the perfect little brother for a serious young chieftain. Evy waved Celia to have a seat, and the young woman said, 'You know, until I saw Mr. Bey this afternoon, I wasn't sure how anyone could be menacingly attractive.'  
  
Evy laughed, removing the plates from their cabinet. She gave the staff the day off, once the preparations were finished. The awkwardness of the first meeting vanished when the men went upstairs. She replied, 'Yes, well. . .it's rather hard to explain Ardeth Bey. In some ways, he defies description. But, once he decides you're worthy of his loyalty, you cannot shake him. He's one of the strongest, bravest men I've ever known.'  
  
She sat down beside her friend, adding with a smile, 'To say nothing of being one of the most beautiful!' Celia blushed and lowered her eyes. Evy grinned, continuing, 'I wouldn't give Rick up for anything, but I know a beautiful man when I see one. And I don't mind telling you, he is very lonely.' Evy thought back to their meeting with the twelve Med-jai commanders. With a sigh, she remembered Ardeth holding Horus aloft and calling him his 'best and most clever friend.'  
  
'As you said. . .he's a beautiful man. I'm sure he has his share of company,' Celia replied softly. Evy realized she was about to overstep some boundaries, and immediately backed off. She began assembling the food, and Celia continued, 'So, tell me about what you're working on.' Evy rolled her eyes, but began to explain about the cataloging. It was a classic Celia ploy, one she picked up through their letters. She always did that when she didn't want to talk about something.  
  
However, she just arrived and Evy wasn't about to make her only true female friend uncomfortable, though she longed to play matchmaker for her two friends. She hadn't yet received any indication that Ardeth was even interested in Celia. Then again, until a crisis of earth-ending proportions loomed, it was difficult to tell what Ardeth was thinking. Even after all these years, he still kept things to himself. That was part of the reason she liked Anatol. . .it was clear he would take care of his older brother.  
  
'Tell me about Alex,' Celia said suddenly, as Evy paused for breath. She looked up, and Evy left her work to sit with her friend again. Five years ago, after Celia learned of that man's deceit, Evy tried to comfort her by telling her about Alex. Like Miranda, Alex was born out of wedlock, though under different circumstances. Shortly after Evy and Rick married and returned to England, she received word from a distant cousin.  
  
Marietta's daughter 'got into trouble,' when she discovered that she was pregnant and her lover refused to marry her. Now Eliza was dying. Marietta couldn't take care of her grandson and her daughter, could Evelyn help out? She could and she did. But only three days after eighteen month old Alex came to live with them, Eliza died and Marietta was killed when she ran into the path of an oncoming lorry.  
  
It took little effort to adopt Alex. When they were children, and Evy was in England, she would tell Eliza bedtime stories about Alexander the Great and others. Obviously, Eliza was inspired to name her son after the conqueror. Evy said, finishing the story, 'In any event, by the time Alex was three years old, we formally adopted him. His birth father never came for him. Apparently, he was married, and didn't need the fuss. His loss. Alex has been ours ever since.'  
  
Celia gave her a vague smile, and Evy let the silence linger. She was glad Celia was here. Evy had the sense through the last several letters that her friend wanted to leave Chicago, but she had nowhere to go. She and Jason were the only members of their family left, which was part of the reason Celia put up with her younger brother. Evy could relate. She often was asked why she didn't throw her ne'er do well brother out.  
  
Jonathan was her family, just as Jason was Celia's, and you simply did not turn your back on family. No matter how much you wanted to. Celia could no more turn her back on Jason than Evy could turn away from her husband, son or brother. . .any more than Ardeth could turn his back on his people. He could put his duty aside for a time, like when he helped them rescue Alex. . .but he was the Med-jai chieftain, and he was not allowed to forget that. It saddened Evy. He was young, highly intelligent, devastatingly handsome and had a gentle soul under the sometimes-gruff exterior.  
  
That was, she supposed, the real reason she found herself wanting to matchmake for him and Celia. They were both lonely. . .Ardeth needed someone to take care of him without him realizing it, and Celia needed someone who didn't care about what happened in Chicago. Well, Rick would tell her that it was none of her business, and he would be right. She said, turning her attention to something new, 'You know, we don't have to get started today.'  
  
Celia looked at her questioningly, and Evy continued, 'Listen. You're positively exhausted. We'll eat, then I want you to take a nap. . .no, don't worry about Miranda, I can take care of her. Rick told you that I'm pregnant. . .oh, it didn't register with you? I think the baby is a girl. . .I want some practice at having a daughter.' Evy only found out a few days earlier that she was pregnant. She was still rattled to her very core by the news. . .ecstatic, but shocked. After Ahm Shere. . .  
  
'When's the baby due?' Celia asked, rising to her feet to hug Evy. As she released the young matron and stepped back, the American almost tripped on her long skirt, but righted herself on the edge of the table. Evy cringed. Celia would end up breaking her neck before too much longer, if she wasn't careful. The trouble was, Evy spelled out the dangers, and Celia being Celia, listened to her.  
  
Doubtless, that was why she was wearing a long skirt that reached the tips of her shoes. It was impractical for traveling, but Celia was torn between practicality and safety for her and her daughter. Daughter. Celia asked about her baby. She replied, 'According to the doctor, I'm about twelve weeks along. Another six months. You know how it is.' Celia nodded ruefully, and Evy continued, choosing her words carefully, 'How far did you get, after you left the ship, before you met up with my men?'  
  
Celia dropped her eyes and said, 'Probably halfway there. There was. . .a miscommunication. . .between myself and Jason.' Evy gritted her teeth. Her impression of Jason Ferguson was of a sullen, self-centered little boy. He whined when Rick made him carry some of the bags upstairs. Evy didn't know what happened on the way to the house, but she did know her husband and her brother.  
  
Neither of them liked Jason Ferguson. Ardeth, as always, kept his peace, but Evy knew him well enough to know when he didn't like someone. She also knew him well enough to know when someone made a favorable impression on him. Further, Evy noticed him carrying Miranda on his shoulders. While Alex adored him. . .had, ever since Ardeth's rather dramatic entrance into their home a few months earlier, Ardeth never carried the boy on his shoulders. It was just strange to see Ardeth carrying a child he just met the way he carried Miranda.  
  
And Miranda thoroughly enjoyed herself. She was more than six feet off the ground, and six feet higher than she was used to being. Plus, Evy was sure that the little girl was accustomed to her surly uncle. . .and while Ardeth could be grim and even harsh, she saw him behaving extraordinarily gently with someone. That a four year old moppet might be one of those someones surprised her not at all.  
  
Which brought her right back to Miranda's mother, who was now settling herself back into her chair. A weary sigh echoed out of her as she rested her forehead against her crossed wrists. Evy regarded her for several moments, then went into the sitting room, where Anatol was watching over the children. Literally, in fact. Miranda crawled up into his lap, and was now tracing the tattoos on his face, much to Anatol's amusement, while Alex told her about Ahm Shere and the mummies. Oh dear. She hoped the little girl wouldn't have nightmares.  
  
But, she had nothing to fear, as Alex was telling her about the golden pyramid, and about the gigantic diamond at the top, glossing over the. . .unpleasant. . .parts. Like her dying and the world almost ending. She caught Anatol's eye, asking softly, 'Is your brother and the other men still upstairs? Celia's very tired. She really should be resting.' Footfall alerted her to the men coming down stairs. . .and Jason Ferguson looking *very* disgruntled. Good. It was time he learned the world didn't revolve around him!  
  
'I can take her upstairs. . .you sure she doesn't want to eat first, honey?' Rick asked softly. Evy took his hand and led him into the kitchen. Celia was now sound asleep, and Rick murmured, 'Whoa, guess not. Okay. Ardeth, buddy, I need your help.' The chieftain joined them and Rick carefully eased Celia's chair back from the table, then just as carefully picked her up. He whispered, 'Grab her skirt and be careful, that thing should be registered as a deadly weapon. She smacks you in the face with it, it'll knock you right over.'  
  
Ardeth did as he was asked, but glanced at Evy, rolling his eyes at the same time. This was so unlike the Ardeth Bey she knew, she almost started laughing. . .until she remembered her sleeping friend. Ardeth said softly once Celia's skirt was safely out of the way, 'It would be better if we carried her together, O'Connell. There would be less chance of Miss Ferguson sustaining serious injury if you lost your footing and fell if we were both carrying her.'  
  
Again, Evy looked at Ardeth in surprise. She was even more surprised when he caught her eye. . .and winked. Rick simply grumbled, 'Ha-ha, very funny. Take her boots, and let's go.' He shifted Celia's sleeping body until he was supporting her shoulders, and Ardeth her legs. With all the moving around they did, it was a wonder the poor girl hadn't awakened. But she remained asleep as they carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. Evy followed along, just to make sure she was settled all right. . .and to observe Ardeth.  
  
Rick wouldn't be happy about her playing matchmaker, she knew, but she loved Ardeth just as much as she loved Jonathan. She wanted to see him happy. She wanted his best and most clever friend to be a human being, rather than a bird. But before any of that could happen, before she could even start figuring out if her two friends were right for each other, she had to see if they were interested. Unfortunately, where Ardeth Bey was concerned, that was never easy.  
  
. . .  
  
Jason Ferguson was having a very bad day. It didn't start out that way. He planned an expedition to Hamunaptra, just as soon as he unloaded his sister and niece with her friends. Then he ran headlong into a very tall, very annoyed-looking man with very strange tattoos on his face. At barely five eight, Jason was already touchy about his height, and when he encountered tall men, like Ardeth Bey or Rick O'Connell, he got even touchier.  
  
Ardeth Bey wasn't just tall. He was powerful. And dangerous. Jason recognized him somewhere deep in his soul as a man you just didn't anger. This man's rage would be white hot and ice cold, and if Jason stopped and thought about the contradiction in that statement. . . But, of course, he didn't. That wasn't his way. He wasn't the thinker in the family, or the dreamer. He wasn't even the doer. And that was the problem.  
  
His problems with both Bey and O'Connell intensified when both men decided he was a bad brother for not helping his sister with the luggage and her daughter. Hey, he hadn't thrown her out of his house after she had gotten into trouble, like his buddies thought he should have! Jason ignored the little voice in the back of his head, telling him that was hardly the mark of a good brother. It wasn't her fault Carstairs turned out to be the tricky bastard he was.  
  
Lord knew, he wanted to blame her for that. She was a modern woman, focused solely on her career as an archivist at the Chicago Museum. Their parents disowned Celia when she was eighteen and she refused to marry one of their father's business partners. And up until the time she met Carstairs, she swore she would never marry. By this time, Jason was living with her in the house they inherited from their grandparents.  
  
And if the truth were known, he blamed himself for not seeing Carstairs for what he was. It really was more his fault. Celia, for all her book knowledge and even her common sense, knew very little of men. She was an innocent, and fell right into Carstairs' trap. When Jason thought about the bet leading to his sister's problems, he wanted to be sick. For the making of that bet alone, he would kill Carstairs again.  
  
Yes, he was partially to blame. His sister gave him shelter after their parents kicked him out of the house when he was sixteen, then picked up the pieces when he was disowned as well. She loved him and took care of him, listened to him. But she was thirty years old and she should be married. Unfortunately, no one wanted used goods, and Jason was finding his sister an albatross. He couldn't marry until she was out of the way. Unless, of course, he was rich, and then he wouldn't have to worry about it.  
  
He could set up Celia in the style she deserved and allow her to raise her daughter in peace; while he and his wife lived separately. Or maybe give Celia an apartment in the house. Or something. Jason, of all people, knew what he owed his sister. And he hated her for it. He hated her for never throwing it back in his face whenever he started in on her. He hated her for the way her face would pale and her chin would lift, before she left the room. Once, just for once, he wished she would fight back.  
  
But Jason knew his sister, and how her rage frightened her. It frightened him, too; which was why he always backed off before he pushed too far. Like today, when he ran off and made her carry the luggage. The trouble was, he couldn't explain why he enjoyed pushing his sister so much. She and Miranda were all he had left in the world. And though he was finding it difficult to marry with his sister around, with her disgrace, he didn't want to lose Celia.  
  
Why would she never fight back with him? She hadn't hesitated to call Bey on his inability to ask for help. . .so how was he different? Well, aside from the fact that he was a helluva lot bigger than Jason. But what was holding her back from tearing into him, the way he sometimes deserved? An image flashed through his mind. . .he was five years old, trembling in his sister's arms as their father screamed and ranted, breaking things. He heard Celia comforting him, but he also heard the fear in his then-ten year old sister's voice. Jason's mouth went dry. Celia was afraid to fight back. . .was afraid to lose her temper.  
  
Not because she was afraid it wasn't befitting a lady, as their mother always said. Celia wasn't a lady, not since she was eighteen years old in the eyes of many. Even before her disgrace at the hands of Leslie Carstairs, she wasn't considered a lady. No, she was afraid that she would go too far and hurt someone, as their father often had. Never a member of the family. . .usually a servant girl, who didn't move fast enough.  
  
She was a few inches shorter than Jason, but he knew she could still hurt him, if she became angry enough. And he was still her little brother. . .he always would be. But Bey. . .he was almost a foot taller than she was. Tall and strong, and not easily harmed by a small, slight American woman. Could it be that despite his fearsome appearance, his older sister actually felt safe with the strange-looking man?  
  
Jason overheard the conversation between Evy O'Connell and the younger Bey brother while he was on his way back downstairs, heard the rage in the other young man's voice at the idea of someone doing what Carstairs did. Honor meant something to this man, then, and evidently to his older brother. Jason winced, remembering the look he got from the older brother. Not just a look, but a Look.  
  
Jason was actually thinking of making a break for Hamunaptra, now that he knew Evy O'Connell could look after his sister and Miranda. It was the Englishwoman who instructed Celia on how to dress and keep herself safe in Cairo. That was actually the reason for one of their arguments. Celia asked Jason to stay close to her and Miranda. Jason got angry, because he assumed she didn't trust him. . .when the truth was, she would need him.  
  
Even after she explained that she needed him to stay close, for safety reasons, he sulked and steamed, because even after everything he did for her, she still didn't trust him. The enormity of his stupidity didn't hit home until he heard O'Connell and Bey talking, about women who were left alone in Cairo and never heard from again. He heard the anger in Bey's voice and realized with a sickening thud as his heart hit his toes, that it could have easily happened to his sister and niece, if Carnahan, O'Connell, and Bey hadn't come for them.  
  
He almost got his sister and niece killed, because of his stupid pride. His sister asked him along, because he could protect her, the way she protected him from their father's rages; and he almost got her killed. It didn't do much for Jason's temperament, as he began looking for liquor of any kind to ease the pain. His sister was asleep, carried to her room by O'Connell and Bey. Miranda was happily playing with Alex O'Connell and Anatol Bey. They were both safe. . .no thanks to him.  
  
The self-pity rose up in his throat, almost choking him. For all his words, he knew that he did nothing anything for her. The house where they lived was just as much hers as it was his; their grandparents left it to them both. The only thing he really did was hold her when she realized she wasn't married to Carstairs. He wasn't even in the house the night Miranda was born. He was out getting drunk, because his sister's disgrace was his own. Their mother unexpectedly developed a protective streak where her only daughter was concerned, and told him what a failure he was. . .he should have protected his sister better.  
  
She was right, of course. . .but the twenty year old Jason couldn't handle it. After picking a fight with his sister, eight months pregnant with Miranda, he slammed out of the house and found one of the few places not shut down by Prohibition. Another time his selfishness almost got his sister killed. When he returned to the house, three days later, Celia was fighting for her life, and Miranda was in the care of a strange woman.  
  
He wondered where his now-suddenly protective mother was, and the woman explained that Mrs. Ferguson was at the house when Celia called her. But she was hit by a car when she ran from the house to get help for her daughter and granddaughter. Madeleine Ferguson's death shattered her husband and when he lost his money in the Stock Market crash of 1929, he killed himself. He had nothing left to live for, it seemed.  
  
Jason never told his sister that. . .Celia never even knew their mother was there. And she had enough of a fight on her hands, recovering from her difficult delivery. Jason never told anyone this, either, but it was the letters from Evy O'Connell that helped to save her life. He read the letters from his sister's English friend, and suspected that helped to pull her back. And now, here they were in Egypt, with the O'Connell family. They would take care of Celia and Miranda, far better than he ever could, along with those two brothers. It was time for him to start making plans to go to Hamunaptra. There he would make his money and his fame. 


	3. Questions Answered

Part Two  
  
After O'Connell and Evelyn's new guest was placed in her temporary room, Ardeth returned downstairs to find his younger brother still playing with Miranda Ferguson. The chieftain held back, allowing O'Connell and his wife to go first. . .it allowed him to watch from the safety of the stairway. Ardeth gave up wishing things were different many, many years earlier. He enjoyed spending time with his nieces and nephews, when he had the time. He didn't always have that time.  
  
Perhaps that was why he took such pleasure in the antics of Alex O'Connell and Miranda Ferguson. When he was in the village with his sisters and their children, he was often called away by business. Here, he had more freedom. That made Ardeth pause. Freedom. He never really allowed himself to think of it that way. More like a moment of tranquility, before the next problem arose, whether it was He Who Shall Not Be Named. . .or something else.  
  
But there was a freedom here, a strange kind of freedom. Among these people, with O'Connell and Evelyn, he did not need to be the Med-jai chieftain. It was a strange sort of friendship, especially since it sometimes seemed to all of them that they only saw each other when there was a crisis of some kind. Usually, a crisis of the apocalyptic variety; in which case O'Connell was rarely pleased to see him.  
  
That was not the case this time. A smile tugged at Ardeth's mouth, as he remembered his initial indignation when he realized his younger brother tricked him into taking a holiday. He would have to keep an eye on Anatol. Especially since the younger brother managed to not only get him to Cairo before revealing that he would be free of his responsibilities for two full weeks, he also told the O'Connell family before Ardeth himself knew. The elder brother grinned to himself. Yes, he would most assuredly keep an eye on that boy!  
  
Anatol wasn't the only one. Ardeth knew Evelyn, and knew she was plotting something. It wasn't necessary to be the chieftain of the Med-jai tribe to realize what sort of something she was plotting. . .and that he had something to do with it. Ardeth's instinct was that Evy meant to play matchmaker between himself and her American friend.  
  
He should have been angry. He was so accustomed to the attempts of his people to marry him to one of the beauties of his tribe, or one of the other tribes. Strangely enough, his mother and sisters never attempted such a thing. In fact, neither of his sisters, Acacia nor Aleta, liked any of the women in their tribe as a proposed wife for him. Most of the unmarried women were their friends. . .but both of his sisters told him rather bluntly that they wanted better for him than a woman who was only interested in the prestige of being married to the chieftain.  
  
Perhaps that was why Evy's matchmaking didn't bother him as much. Evy O'Connell was trying to assess the compatibility between him and her friend. Not for the prestige, but because she loved Ardeth as she loved Jonathan. . .and Celia as she would have loved a sister. She wanted to see them both happy. However, Ardeth didn't know if he was capable of making any woman happy. It was not easy, being the wife of the Med-jai chieftain.  
  
He knew, among the Europeans, he would have been called a king or a prince, and his wife would thus be a queen among their people. That was the problem with Evy's attempts right there. Celia Ferguson was a Westerner, an outsider. The Med-jai weren't necessarily a closed society; however, they were protective of what was theirs, and Ardeth knew the ramifications of bringing an outsider into the tribe as a bride. He hadn't met a woman who was strong enough to handle such pressure, nor could he imagine subjecting a woman he claimed to love to such an ordeal.  
  
Which wasn't to say, of course, that he loved Celia Ferguson. He barely knew her. Although. . .what he did know of her. . .it seemed to him that she was strong, a strength she didn't even know she possessed. It took strength to keep moving forward after such a betrayal. And it took strength to raise the daughter left to her by that betrayal with such love and patience. Ardeth realized that Anatol questioned why she allowed her brother to treat her in such a way, but the leader of the Med-jai thought he understood.  
  
When he saw a spark of rage in her eyes, he also saw how quickly it was snuffed out. Oh, the rage was still there. . .but Celia feared that rage. Feared what she could do if she was angry enough, and Ardeth was raised by a woman very much like the woman whom Evy O'Connell was now. He knew about the sort of damage a woman could do to a man, both physically and mentally. She was afraid of her rage, and of going too far, of hurting her brother.  
  
He respected her for that. . .and feared for her at the same time. One day, that barrier which protected her younger brother from her fury would be breached. It was just a matter of time. Ardeth knew this, as well as he knew anything in his life. Perhaps it would be a wise idea if he aided her in learning to control that fury, instead of pushing it aside. He knew that if he did that, he would be inviting further intervention from Evy.  
  
But at the same time, he knew his attempts to aid Celia Ferguson could also save many lives, quite possibly his own. It was well worth the risk of Evy's matchmaking, the Ferguson boy's dark looks, and teasing from O'Connell. What concerned him now was his younger brother. Anatol seemed rather taken with her, perhaps seeing only her vulnerability, and not the iron underneath. He would have to be careful.  
  
He thought a few moments earlier that by aiding Celia Ferguson, he could end up saving countless lives, including his own. It would be a long, long time before he found out just how right he was about that.  
  
. . .  
  
Anck-su-namun watched in interest, hearing the thoughts of the Med- jai without truly understanding how she was hearing them. It wasn't important at the moment. What *was* important was the Med-jai's decision to help her forever friend channel the rage within her soul. Anck-su-namun would have laughed if she hadn't still distrusted the Med-jai. Three thousand years ago, Anck-su-namun taught Ardath to fight. . .partly to channel her passions until she was chosen, and partly to make sure her forever friend could protect herself.  
  
Most people thought Ardath to be sweet, if a bit insipid. Anck never made that mistake after the first time the prince met her friend. They were both fifteen years of age, and one of the Med-jai children was racing to meet his father. He was all of five years old, and inclined to be excitable, as children that age were. At that time, Anck had little use for children, but Ardath loved them.  
  
So, when she heard one of the lesser princes growl at the Med-jai child and start to backhand the little boy, Ardath would not stand for it. She shoved the prince away from the boy, and gathered the little one up into her arms, shielding him with her own body. It was a crime punishable by death, but the look in Ardath's eyes was anything but fearful. It was angry and defiant and Anck, for once, was in no position to help her friend.  
  
Just as the lesser prince started to strike Ardath, and the girl tightened her arms protectively around the child, fate intervened. The prince's hand was caught by Rameses himself. He was home from the campaigns, looking dirty and sweaty and bloody. He hadn't yet washed, she learned later, and not particularly amused to find his cousin drawing back his hand to strike a girl of fifteen and a boy of five. The prince growled out, 'What is the meaning of this? Why would you strike two children who have done nothing to you?' Up until that point, Anck hadn't seen Rameses. She was too focused on Ardath and the boy.  
  
But now, seeing an opportunity to save her friend's life, Anck bowed her head to the prince and replied, 'My friend shoved him, m'lord, when he attempted to strike the boy.' A dark brow raised as Rameses turned his head to regard his cousin. Anck didn't know his name at the time, though she would never forget his name in later years. In truth, she had little use for men in general. She had little use for people in general, men or women. Ardath and Imhotep were the only two people whom Anck ever loved. And she betrayed them both.  
  
In the years to come, people would speak of Anck's sensuality and grace. She was beautiful in ways that Ardath was not. But with her courage that day, her unwillingness to stand by as a child was harmed, Anck's friend gained the attention of the prince himself. So strange, how the simplest action could change the entire course of a person's life. In the centuries and millennia since, Anck wondered many times what would have happened, if Ardath did not take the actions she did.  
  
It was foolish to wonder, of course. Ardath took the actions she did because that was whom she was, just as Anck took her own course. Imhotep was ever amused by the dichotomy of the two women. He, like so many others, never understood the bond between Anck and Ardath. . .was, in fact, one of many who saw the foreign concubine only as sweet and weak. It wasn't until the end that he realized just how strong she was.  
  
Just like she was in this lifetime. She was called 'Celia Ferguson' now, and she was an American. Like Ardath, she appeared soft and weak, but she had a core of steel within her, and a temper of fire. Anck only observed her reincarnated friend for a short time, but she quickly came to realize that Celia was taught to submerge that rage. Anger was part of being human. Deny it, and you drive yourself mad.  
  
She heard the Med-jai's voice inside her head. //It is the missing piece of your heart. If you embrace it, if you accept it, you can do anything.// Anck frowned, not understand why she heard that. Not at first at least. Then she caught sight of Mathayus smiling faintly. He obviously knew what was going on, but he was most likely waiting for her to figure it out. He was like Imhotep in that respect.  
  
//She fears that part of her, and rightly so. But unlike Rick O'Connell and his Med-jai heritage, Celia Ferguson has two pieces of her heart that are missing. First, her memories of being Lady Ardath, concubine to Prince Rameses; and second, the acceptance which will allow her to use that rage wisely within herself. The person who can aid her in the resolution of the second task is the Med-jai, Ardeth Bey,// Mathayus said after a moment.  
  
Again, Anck's heart leapt at the similarity between the name of the Med-jai and the name of her forever friend. She looked at him. If he was not Med-jai, she would have found him very pleasing to look at. He was very tall, about as tall as O'Connell, with black hair reaching just past his shoulders. But as ever, the tattoos on his face kept her from going too much further with her perusal of his person. The hatred she felt for the Med-jai of her time lingered, and was now directed at the young man now considering how he could best help her sister. She didn't even realize that she noted Ardeth Bey's youth.  
  
//You wonder if there is a link between your sister and this man. There is. But now is not the time for you to know that connection. You must look past those tattoos, Anck-su-namun. He is your sister's best hope in the days and weeks ahead. Her brother seeks to awaken a sleeping evil. The Med-jai, in their grief and guilt, carried out the hom-dai, and thus sentenced their own children to slavery. But there is another evil, an older evil, which is far more deadly than Imhotep. . .or you. . .could ever hope to be,// Mathayus said.  
  
Anck looked at her companion. Truly, Jason Ferguson was a petty, whining little fool. But it didn't appear to her that he was truly malicious or as selfish as Anck knew herself to be. She didn't think it was likely he would ever do the things she did. Mathayus continued, //I should have said, this evil seeks Jason Ferguson to raise him. The boy will have no choice. This is his destiny, just as it is the destiny of Ardeth Bey to face this evil.//  
  
For some reason, Anck didn't like the sound of that. Why, she didn't know. He was Med-jai. He caused her more headaches and heartaches than anyone had since Seti. And yet, she couldn't deny that he sought to protect that which was his. He was trying to protect his people, his family, his world. . .and her sister. //Just as,// an insidious little whisper told her, //you have done. Perhaps if you left him alone, left his people alone. . .he would not have been forced to stand against you.//  
  
She wasn't ready to hear that, not yet. Not after all these millennia. Not after hearing the desperation in Imhotep's voice as she ran from him. Mathayus said quietly, //So. You judge the Med-jai for his attempts to protect what is his, because you failed your lover? You are not as honest as I thought.// Anck glared at the one-time Scorpion King, who just ignored the anger in her eyes, and continued, //You blame Ardeth Bey for thwarting your plans, when your plans would have destroyed everyone he ever loved. Would have destroyed your forever friend.//  
  
//What choice did I have! If destroying the world was the only way Imhotep and I could love in peace, then so be it!// she snarled. She heard the last part of his sentence, and the guilt almost drove her to her knees. If Ardeth Bey hadn't challenged them. . .she regarded O'Connell as a mere nuisance, as her information told her that he wouldn't have gotten involved if they left his family alone. . .then she would have once more killed her friend.  
  
//What. . .kind. . .of. . .love. . .is. . .that?// Mathayus hissed. Anck looked away. She wanted to remind him of his choice to sell his soul to Anubis for his life and the ability to conquer his enemies. She wanted to remind him of the blood he had shed. But she couldn't. Because reminding him of what he did, was no balm for what her own misdeeds. She loved Ardath so much, and yet she took her friend's life.  
  
The scene changed with a sweep of her companion's hand, and she saw her friend once more dying as she sought to protect her child from the Anubis Warriors who swept over the world after Imhotep killed the Scorpion King. She saw little Miranda dying. And tears poured down her face. This would have been the fate of so many, if she had her way. If Ardeth Bey never challenged them, or if he died before he could help the O'Connells rescue their son. O'Connell was nothing more than an annoyance. . .Ardeth Bey was the true threat.  
  
The scene changed once more, returning to Ardeth Bey looking pensive as he considered what he should do to help Celia. Mathayus said quietly, //You must remember what you saw, Anck-su-namum. Both Ardeth Bey and Rick O'Connell are Med-jai. They will both be needed, though it's Ardeth's destiny to face your ancient enemy. And they will need help, because this is something two men cannot do alone. The question becomes, do you have the strength of your forever friend?// And with those words, the picture changed once more.  
  
. . .  
  
//The sound of laughter echoed through her dreams, and in her mind's eye, she could see two young girls chasing each other around the columns of the palace, playing tag with each other and the beams of sunlight. They were no more than fifteen years old. . .no longer children, but not truly adults either. The less graceful of the two tripped on something, and went tumbling down the steps.//  
  
//Her darker, more exotic looking companion stopped what she was doing, and ran down the stairs after her friend. It wasn't a long fall, and the stairs weren't particularly steep, but neither fact took away from the fear on the second girl's face. The first girl was already shaking off the effects of her fall, but the dark girl pushed her down, saying in a language long dead, 'No, Ardath, stay still. . .you might have been hurt in the fall!'//  
  
//Her friend smiled and replied, 'I am fine, Anck! I fell but a short distance.' She started to get up, but her ankle gave way. The girl named 'Anck' grabbed her waist and gently eased her back to the ground, as the girl named 'Ardath' bit down on her lower lip. She whispered, 'Perhaps I spoke too soon, but my ankle is all that pains me. Please, dear friend, do not worry for me. If anyone is punished, it will be me, for being so clumsy.'//  
  
//Anck's dark eyes flashed with rage as she replied, 'Neither of us shall be punished. Come! I will take you to Imhotep, and he can help you. Remember, you are to go to the bed of Rameses tonight, my friend, and if you please him, you will have nothing more to fear.' She kept a careful arm around her friend's waist, helping her stand. She continued, 'I made a promise, Ardath, and I will keep it. No one will ever hurt you again.' Nothing more was said for several moments, as Anck helped her friend toward the chambers where they would find Imhotep.//  
  
//They were friends for many years, two children who forged an alliance in an atmosphere of distrust. Anck could not say, exactly, what led her to take the small, pale hand of the little house slave into her own protectively. She only knew that when Ardath's fingers closed around her own. . .well, Anck was not accustomed to feeling such protectiveness, such warmth, toward another. Much less someone who could take away her security.//  
  
//But in that strange way, Ardath became her security. They took care of each other. Anck was harder, more cynical. . .darker, clichéd as that might be, and in reference to her mind and her heart, rather than the fact that her complexion was darker than that of her friend. It would have been a simplification to call them light and dark, but the desire was often there. But Anck had her soft side, and his name was Imhotep, for even as she warmed the bed of the Pharaoh Seti I, she was falling in love with the handsome high priest.//  
  
//Ardath was her other soft side. And just as Anck had her soft side, brought out by Imhotep and her forever friend, Ardath was steel encased in velvet. Anck saw that steel many a time. She was not outwardly defiant, but she did what she thought was right, a determination which resulted in many beatings for her. Anck smiled grimly, remembering sneaking away from her ailing friend's bedside to deal with whoever harmed Ardath. Many drunken soldiers who dared to strike her friend found themselves regretting it in the moments before their own deaths.//  
  
//They found Imhotep with Rameses, and Anck could hear Ardath quietly cursing herself for being a fool. But to Anck's relief, only concern lit the dark eyes of the prince. He strode over to the two young concubines and swung Ardath up into his arms. Anck grinned to herself, pleased that her friend was too startled by the prince's action to protest. Imhotep asked,'What happened, Anck-su-namun, that she was hurt in this way?' Anck almost laughed at the glare Ardath directed toward the high priest.//  
  
//It was just too bad that he never saw the ire in that look. Anck knew Imhotep thought her friend to be soft and weak, but as Rameses gently settled her on a cot, the concubine also realized that Rameses saw the steel underneath the velvet. There was only concern as he sat next to her, his hand resting at her waist. . .concern, not condescension. He asked very softly, 'What occurred, my Ardath?' My Ardath????//  
  
//Anck raised her eyebrows at the endearment, but held her tongue as her friend quietly explained everything which had happened. Rameses frowned, then gently kissed the top of her head, saying softly, 'I am pleased you were not hurt worse. And do not call yourself foolish. Nefertiri has lost her footing on those stairs many times herself. Once Imhotep has finished with your ankle, I will take you to my chambers, so you can rest.'//  
  
//Rest? Was that all he had in mind for her friend? Anck looked at the prince, not entirely sure if she could trust him. He was, after all, the son of Seti, and the pharaoh wasn't the kindest man. Rameses himself could demonstrate an ugly temper on occasion, but Anck admitted that he only demonstrated compassion toward her sister, compassion and concern. As bratty as Nefertiri was, Anck was surprised to learn that Rameses was capable of compassion.//  
  
//And yet, here he was. . .sitting at the side of her friend, his hands gripping her friend's shoulders as Imhotep first examined, then wrapped her ankle. It was merely twisted, not broken. Ardath kept silent through the examination, with only the lines in her face to testify to the pain Anck knew she was experiencing. But as Imhotep pronounced his findings, Ardath glared at her and growled, 'I told you it was nothing, Anck!' The other girl only laughed.//  
  
//Imhotep finished wrapping her ankle, not even touching her flesh, particularly in the presence of the man who chose Ardath as his concubine. Once he was finished, Rameses once more swung the foreign girl into his arms and rose to his feet. Anck followed suit, inclining her head before them both. Impulsively, she took her friend's hand as Rameses carried her from the room, and Ardath responded with a gentle squeeze.//  
  
//In those days, before Seti chose Anck as his next queen, Anck did not wear the body paint marking her as his. Instead, she dressed as Ardath did, and there was no reason for Imhotep to avoid touching her. Which he did now, putting his large, warm hands on her shoulders. Anck covered his hands with her own, whispering,'She was very brave, did you see? She never even made a sound.' Imhotep didn't answer.//  
  
//Anck-su-namun simply glared at the man she was quickly growing to love. Men could be such fools, even Imhotep! Why did he not see that other people drew their strength from Ardath? Anck herself did. . .she saw others do the same. Why were men such fools? Why did they never understand that sometimes, strength was hidden? That was, Anck realized now, the reason why Ardath always seemed apart from the other concubines.//  
  
//She wasted little of her strength on the games and the backstabbing. She remained honest and true to herself, and that gave her the strength she needed. The strength she gave to Anck. And when Ardath's own strength ran low, Anck did whatever her forever friend needed from her. Anck would do anything for Ardath. Nothing was too terrible to imagine. . .nothing except losing her friend.//  
  
//By this time, Anck recognized that Ardath was the better part of her. Which was not to say her friend was weak. . .but she was raised with love by the Hebrew slaves who found her in that flowering field, so long ago. Anck never knew love, until she found her forever friend, until that small, pale foreign girl slipped her fingers around Anck's. She had no idea how to react to the idea of losing Ardath. No idea, except rage.//  
  
//At last, Imhotep said dismissively,'She had a twisted ankle, nothing serious. She has never been wounded in battle. . .there is no valor, in holding back a scream from a twisted ankle.' Anck rounded on the high priest, her dark eyes wide with fury. A twisted ankle? No, perhaps he was right, perhaps a twisted ankle was not as serious as a battle wound, but that meant nothing. Women often endured grievous pain away from the battlefield. Anck could still remember hearing the anguished cries of her mother during childbirth. She remembered many things. And, she reminded herself that it was she who nursed Ardath during her illnesses and after her beatings. Imhotep didn't know Ardath as she did.//  
  
//She tried to remember that, but it wasn't always possible. It was times as these that she saw not the man who treated her with such kindness, but just the high priest. She said now, 'Yes, priest, but I have known men to howl for lesser reasons.' Usually when she was busy killing them for harming Ardath, but she said none of this to Imhotep. It was not something important for him to know. Anck was cunning, as well as cold when she killed. Each time, she made it look like self-defense. A lifetime on the streets of Thebes taught her well.//  
  
//And in turn, she was now teaching Ardath. Little by little, gauging what were her friend's strengths and weaknesses. One surprising thing was the strength in Ardath's upper body, particularly in her arms. Anck didn't question her friend after the first time she commented on it, because of the pain she saw in Ardath's eyes. Perhaps those six years between the time she was found by the slaves and the first time the two girls met weren't as idyllic as Anck originally thought.//  
  
//That was of no importance now. She was expected to join the other concubines, except Ardath. It would not do for her to be late. She gave the high priest a curt nod and sashayed from the room, feeling his eyes on her as she left. Because she was still angry with him, she enjoyed the feeling of power it gave her. Desire was power. And that power would give her the means to protect herself and those she loved. No matter what the price.//  
  
. . .  
  
Celia awoke from her dream, rattled. It wasn't an unpleasant dream, simply. . .strange. In the first place, she often didn't remember her dreams, and in the second. . .if she did remember those dreams, they were mere fragments of reality. This dream played more like a memory. . .or a movie. However, it wasn't a memory. It couldn't be, because she knew the thoughts and emotions of both girls.  
  
As if that wasn't bad enough, she was disoriented when she looked around. . .where was she? Oh. Celia sighed, allowing her head to drop back onto the pillow. She was in Cairo, visiting Rick and Evy O'Connell. You'd think after the journey she just completed, she would remember that. Stupid, stupid girl. Things returned to her now. Her argument with Jason, lugging the luggage behind her while watching over Miranda. . .and the meeting with Ardeth Bey. Yes, she remembered everything now.  
  
What she didn't remember was how exactly she got here. Not here, in this house. . .that she remembered. However, the last thing she did remember was resting her head on her forearms in Evy's kitchen while her friend was preparing lunch. Lunch. Food. She hadn't eaten in what seemed like forever, and she made her way down the stairs. No one was paying attention, so she slipped into the kitchen.  
  
'Oh, good, you're awake. . .do you feel better?' Evy asked, puttering around the kitchen. Celia nodded, and Evy continued, 'Good, I'm glad to hear it. In case you're wondering, I had Rick and Ardeth carry you upstairs. I was concerned they might wake you, with the way they were behaving. . .like a pair of naughty little boys, they were.' Celia just raised her eyebrows at that. Somehow, she had a hard time seeing Ardeth Bey behaving like a naughty little boy.  
  
And then she found herself thinking, much to her shock, *So, he carried me upstairs, and I wasn't awake enough to enjoy it. . .CECELIA!* She couldn't believe she just thought that! True enough, she wasn't a lady, and hadn't been for quite some time, but she did like to maintain some degree of decorum. Struggling to recover that degree of decorum, Celia asked, 'Is there anything I can do to help?'  
  
'Oh, no, no, I'm almost finished. . .go sit down, you're still exhausted,' Evy replied, shooing her back into the sitting room, where Rick O'Connell and Ardeth Bey were discussing something in low voices. From their expressions, it seemed rather serious. Her daughter was still being entertained by Anatol Bey. Miranda seemed quite fascinated by the tattoos adorning Anatol's cheeks, forehead, and hands.  
  
'MOMMY! You're awake, we don't gotta be quiet now!' Miranda shrieked, catapulting from Anatol's side to fling herself into Celia's arms. The American woman dropped to one knee without even thinking about it, catching the four year old in an equally fierce hug. Celia barely managed to keep back her chokes and gasps as her daughter threatened to hug the very life out of her. A quick glance over Miranda's head told her that Anatol was struggling against a smile.  
  
She found out the reason why a moment later, when Anatol raised his eyes and called, 'Ardeth, does that look familiar?' The dark eyes of the Med-jai chieftain shifted from Rick O'Connell to Celia and Miranda, and a faint smile appeared. Anatol continued, his own eyes dancing with laughter, 'Our nephew does that, Miss Ferguson, every time Ardeth comes back after one of his patrols. One would think that he had not seen Ardeth for several years, instead of just a few weeks.'  
  
'Anatol, to a child that age, a few weeks does seem like years,' Evy observed, joining them in the sitting room. Evidently, she knew how old this nephew was. The Englishwoman sat down on the arm of her husband's chair, and rested her hand on Rick's shoulder. His hand immediately covered her own, sending a pang directly into Celia's heart. It was easy to ignore her own loneliness when she wasn't confronted by a loving couple, which Rick and Evy obviously were.  
  
She saw that same reality when she looked at Ardeth Bey. Strange, she wouldn't have expected a man as breath-taking as he was to be lonely. But she could tell from his expression that he was experiencing the same pangs as she. At least, until a stoic mask slipped into place, and the sadness was gone. However, the kinship established within those few seconds remained, long after the sadness disappeared.  
  
Then Miranda was chattering away, drawing her mother's attention back to her, along with a patient smile. Miranda, not surprisingly, was absolutely entranced by both Anatol and Ardeth Bey. They were, to the little girl, extremely tall, quite exotic, and incomparably handsome. And though Miranda was a little girl, she already knew beauty when she saw it. Both brothers were beautiful, strange as it was to apply such a word to men. Carstairs was not what she considered 'beautiful.' Come to think of it, he wasn't even handsome. He had pleasing features, but cold eyes. That should have warned her. Stupid little fool.  
  
Miranda had no fear of these men, despite her initial reaction when they met. She was a fearless child, all around, which always shocked Celia. . .and worried her, too, on occasion. How a coward such as herself managed to not only birth, but raise such a fearless little girl, took her breath away. Where did Miranda learn her courage? Surely not from her mother. . .not from her uncle, either, and Carstairs was long dead. . .damn his soul to the Underworld. Where did she learn to be so brave?  
  
'And Ardeth says that his mother and sisters know how to fight, 'cause they might have to defend the village when Ardeth and the other men are away, and says that girls can fight too! Anatol thinks that girls are scarier than boys sometimes,' Miranda rattled on as Celia settled on the bottom stair, her child in her lap. She didn't miss Anatol's chagrin or his older brother's amusement. Miranda took a deep breath, raised her face to Celia's, then asked perfectly seriously, 'Mommy, how old do I gotta be 'fore I can marry Ardeth?'  
  
Ardeth almost spit out whatever he was drinking, then doubled over in his chair, coughing helplessly. Rick reached over and pounded on his back, while Anatol sank deeper into his own seat, laughing helplessly. She could almost see the tears streaming down the young warrior's face. Evy covered her mouth with her hand, but Celia could see her friend's eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.  
  
'Ew! Then you'd be kissing all the time, like my mum and dad!' Alex blurted out. Rick grabbed a hold of Ardeth, who looked about ready to fall out of his chair. The boy's remark set everyone to laughing again, everyone except for Miranda, who looked at her mother in bewilderment, and Celia, who was struggling to keep from laughing herself. She didn't want to hurt her daughter's feelings.  
  
'Alex, you say that like it's a bad thing,' Celia replied around the lump she had in her throat from swallowing her laughter. She turned her attention back to her daughter and replied, 'You know, honey, Ardeth may already be married, and we don't know if he's allowed to have more than one wife.' She glanced up to see Ardeth shaking his head. Whether that meant he was only allowed to have one wife, or wasn't married, Celia wasn't sure yet.  
  
Anatol provided the answer, by replying, 'We are only permitted one wife. . .and Ardeth has not yet taken his.' A hand swiped the back of Anatol's head from the general direction of his older brother, but that didn't prevent the young man from continuing with a mischievous grin, 'And you must be at least sixteen years old in order to wed, little one. By that time, I fear my brother will be. . .too old.'  
  
Celia ducked her head as she saw Rick remove his hand from Ardeth's shoulder, realizing what was about to come next. She was right. Ardeth tackled his younger brother, a smile of unholy glee decorating his handsome face. Anatol yelped, struggling under the older and taller brother, and it took a moment for Celia to realize what Ardeth was doing. She leaned back against the stairs, giving way to her laughter. She swiveled Miranda on her lap, so her daughter could witness this as well.  
  
'Old, is it? I will show you 'old,' little brother, and you will pray you actually live that long!' Ardeth growled. Anatol squeaked, wriggling around on the floor, trying desperately to get away from his brother's waggling fingers. He wasn't succeeding particularly well, and it was all Celia could do to just keep her arms around her daughter as she laughed helplessly. A quick glance told her that Evy was almost on her knees from laughing so hard, while Rick was just staring at Ardeth in shock. Alex was leaning against his mother, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
  
Anatol blurted out something in Arabic, and Ardeth continued, keeping up the attack, 'What was that, little brother? I did not understand you!' A bright grin flashed across his face, taking at least ten years off his age, and Celia realized for the first time that he was only a few years older than herself. No more than thirty-two or thirty-three, an understanding in her brain, but not in her heart.  
  
That was dangerous ground. . .too many similarities between herself and Ardeth Bey. Or rather, noticing them. The last time she did that. . . Celia's arms tightened around Miranda and forced herself to concentrate on the now. Ignore the past and her brother's pouting. It wasn't as hard as she might have imagined. For the first time in what seemed like ages, she was happy. Cecelia Anne Ferguson was a number of things, but she wasn't a complete fool. She would take this time of joy and enjoy it. For as long as it lasted.  
  
. . .  
  
Anatol's holiday with his brother was turning into something entirely unexpected. He would have never imagined that his elder brother, the quiet and serious chieftain of the Med-jai people, still had enough of the small child within him to tackle Anatol to the ground and tickle him, as if they were still thirteen and five. Although, at that time, Anatol and Andreas often double-teamed Ardeth. His brother released him, stopping his assault, and Anatol pulled back to look at his brother, both of them breathing hard and laughing.  
  
Andreas. He would have enjoyed the tussle. . .would have enjoyed seeing Ardeth's bright, mischievous grin, and the long black hair almost covering his eyes. Strange as it sounded, Andreas was never as serious as Ardeth. Looking back now, Anatol could remember Andreas laughing far more frequently than their brother, even in the four years after their father's death and before his own. Andreas, though, was larger than life.  
  
He was a big man, not just taller than Ardeth, but wider as well. And he laughed. As often as he could, and sometimes when others thought he shouldn't. But he was loved. He hadn't yet taken a wife at the time of his death. . .he was too young, he told their mother. Twenty-two years old. Too young to marry, and too young to die.  
  
Ardeth, on the other hand, was always quiet and serious. To use a word used by Evy when speaking of his brother, he was shy with girls. He was always more comfortable in training than outside, when he had to interact with the young ladies of their village. Anatol knew how the maidens of their tribe saw Ardeth, from the maidens themselves and from their two sisters. He became all the more attractive after Andreas died.  
  
But Ardeth pulled back from other people as he recovered in those dark times, allowing his new army, and his family, to take first position in his heart. It was, Anatol discovered, the best way Ardeth had to protect himself. The seventeen year old was under an enormous amount of pressure, as the new Med-jai king. It would have been hard enough, to simply be the new Commander of their particular tribe, but the chieftain. . .the king?  
  
An impossible task, said many. They didn't know his brother. Ardeth was stubborn, even before his birth. Anatol hadn't understood, the first time his mother said that. Aleta, the quieter, more serene sister. . .the sister most like Ardeth. . .took Anatol aside and explained that Ardeth almost died at birth. Their parents believed for some time afterward that Ardeth would die before he reached his first birthday.  
  
He should have died, as he was born before his time. He should have died several times between his birth and his seventeenth year. He didn't. The Bey family was stubborn by nature, by blood, and Ardeth was the most stubborn of a stubborn family. Anatol never doubted that his brother would prevail. Part of it was the hero worship of a nine year old boy for his brother, part of it was simply knowing Ardeth.  
  
It took time, but Ardeth ended up winning the battles within their tribe, within their nation. Things came to a head after the Creature rose the first time. For nine years, Ardeth had sought to bring the Med-jai into the twentieth century. It took the beating at the hands of the Americans. . .actually it was a draw, but it was a terrible blow to the collective ego of the Med-jai. Anatol was eighteen at the time, and at his mother's request, he disobeyed his brother. Ardeth wanted him to, as the Americans said, stay put while he headed to Cairo.  
  
Actually, he disobeyed only when he saw the plane crash. Anatol somehow knew that his brother was on that plane. . .actually, he found out later that Ardeth was strapped to the plane. Anatol didn't ask any more questions after that. He didn't think he wanted to know. The plane was flying toward Hamunaptra. The young warrior was immediately informed that he was to go help his brother, because Altair Bey would not bury another son. . .and she would not lose Ardeth to the Creature.  
  
Anatol left the village as soon as his mother spoke, vaulting onto a horse. He hadn't gone but a mile, when he noticed one of the village elders. One of the men most opposed to the modernization of the Med-jai. . .until his son was cut down in the initial skirmish with the Americans. It was strange to Anatol. He grew up fearing Aric. . .and now, he only saw a beaten, tired old man. Aric tried to blame Ardeth for the death of his son, but how could he, when his own complacency and pride prevented the young king from doing what was needed?  
  
No, Aric would atone for his arrogance, which cost the lives of so many Med-jai. He would help Anatol find his brother, and rescue him, if need be. Besides, Anatol happened to know that until Ardeth became chieftain, Aric was courting Altair. The fiery Greek matriarch of the Med- jai quickly turned against him, a mother's protectiveness coming to the fore. Many men underestimated Altair's love for her children, and all of them regretted it.  
  
It was Anatol and Aric who pulled the unconscious chieftain from the forbidden city. The sound of the explosion attracted their attention, and for several terrifying moments, Anatol thought he would now be the chieftain. He, the youngest. That gave him renewed strength to get to his brother. It took almost ten minutes to dig their way to Ardeth, another two minutes to toss the rotting corpses away from his brother, and just one to feel the weak pulse under his fingers. It was the longest thirteen minutes of Anatol's young life.  
  
Seven years later, he looked at his brother, still gasping for breath. Ardeth's head rested against the chair, his eyes were closed, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face, a real smile. Anatol said in Greek, 'I have missed you, my brother.' Ardeth opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at Anatol, who continued, 'And we have all missed your smile. It is good to know, that my brother is still in there.'  
  
Ardeth's smile widened, ever so slightly, and he replied in the same language, 'I never left, little brother. I have always been here. I sometimes do forget, though.' Anatol nodded, mentally repeating his vow to take care of his brother. For some reason, he forgot how close they came to losing Ardeth at Hamunaptra. They almost lost him at Ahm Shere, and Anatol knew his brother still had nightmares of that place. Ardeth took a deep breath, and then asked, 'What brought this on, little brother?'  
  
'I was remembering digging you out of Hamunaptra. . .and Andreas. You frightened me badly, brother. I was afraid I would lose my brother, afraid I would be chieftain,' Anatol replied with the customary honesty of his family. One thing Altair and Suleiman taught all five children was to be honest. Honest with their opinions, honest with others. . .and that loving your brothers and sisters was not a weakness, but a strength.  
  
Because he was the youngest, and had none of the pressures faced by his older brother, Anatol was far better at expressing himself. He loved his brother very much, and never hesitated to show it. Ardeth's dark eyes softened, but before he could respond in any way, Evy O'Connell said in English, drawing their attention with a gentle cough, 'Much as I enjoy finally hearing how Ardeth escaped the explosion, I should remind you that some of us do speak Greek.'  
  
Much to Anatol's astonishment, his brother actually blushed, and Rick O'Connell asked, 'They said how Ardeth escaped?' The awkwardness of the moment passed as Rick grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him back into his seat, muttering under his breath all the while. Anatol hid a smile as his brother rolled his eyes yet again. Rick added, in a somewhat louder voice, 'You never did answer my question: who are you and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?'  
  
'I am whom I have always been, O'Connell, if you were paying attention,' Ardeth retorted. Evy covered her mouth with her hand again, and Ardeth continued, 'And in answer to your question, my then-eighteen year old brother disobeyed a request I made of him. Although, in his defense, I should add that he disobeyed me at our mother's request. He came after us, after the plane crashed, with the father of a man who died at Hamunaptra. When I awoke, I was lying on the sand where they placed me after digging me out of the cave-in.'  
  
'Very wise young man,' Evy said, nodding serenely, 'I would obey your mother as well.' Anatol simply smiled at her, thinking about how much she reminded him of his sister Aleta. Evy continued, 'And now that the boys have had their fun, it's dinner time. Alex, would you like to escort Miranda into dinner. . .and Ardeth? Please escort Celia?' Anatol almost fell over laughing. He should speak with Evy about her matchmaking. She was far too obvious!  
  
. . .  
  
As they headed into dinner, Rick O'Connell resolved to have a little talk with his wife. He didn't know what scared him more. The idea of her going off on another treasure hunt. . . e.g., Hamunaptra or Ahm Shere. . .or the way she was tempting fate with her matchmaking. He knew she was trying to help. . .trying to ease the loneliness, or supposed loneliness, of two people whom she loved. But really. . .Ardeth was a big boy, he could take care of himself. Look at all the times he saved Rick's family, after all.  
  
And Celia was thirty years old, hardly a young girl. Rick wasn't even sure she was right for Ardeth, Evy's matchmaking aside. She was shy. . .let her brother walk all over her. . .on the other hand, she sure nailed Ardeth about asking for help. Still, it wasn't their concern. After all, how would Evy feel if Celia *did* fall in love with Ardeth, and he didn't return her feelings? No, he would have a talk with Evy, before any hearts got broken.  
  
There was no time, however, because at Evy's suggestion, Ardeth gravely offered his arm to Celia, which she accepted with a smile. Rick grudgingly admitted that Celia went into this with her eyes open. She didn't have a glazed look in her eyes, the one which read 'ooh, handsome man likes me.' And Rick knew women thought Ardeth to be very, very attractive. He wasn't about to share his opinion on that. . .  
  
Still, Rick couldn't quite ignore the little devil which gloated at the way Jason Ferguson was glowering at his sister and Ardeth. He had no doubt that his old friend could handle the kid. Ardeth learned to fight when he was Miranda's age. Rick would be very surprised if the Ferguson brat could throw a punch properly. He didn't even have to fight their old buddy Imhotep, just be able to hold his own in an alley fight.  
  
He knew from Evy that the brother and sister came from money. But even as he dismissed his wife's feeling that Celia and Ardeth might be good for each other, Rick couldn't deny that the older sister seemed to have a better grip on the world. She came from money, but she provided for herself since she was eighteen. She was thirty now. . .that gave her a helluva lot of experience in the real world.  
  
That wasn't even taking into account her experience with Miranda's father. It wouldn't have surprised Rick at all to learn that his own reaction mirrored that of Anatol Bey. It wouldn't have surprised him, either, to discover that Celia blamed herself for not seeing the man for what he was. Rick didn't know much about the jackass, but it was his experience that men like that worked real hard at making sure people didn't see their true colors.  
  
And then there was Ardeth, who was the exact opposite. Okay, so maybe Evy had a few points. But that didn't mean she should be matchmaking for the pair. For one thing, just because Ardeth was the exact opposite of the man who almost destroyed her life, didn't mean he was what Celia needed. And for another, if Rick did think about such things (which he didn't), he wouldn't be so sure that Celia was what Ardeth needed.  
  
But again, the Med-jai was a grown man. He knew what he needed and wanted. Didn't he? It was still none of Rick's business, especially now that he was questioning just how well he knew Ardeth. He had known the Med- jai for seven years. Usually when the world was about to end, because of this curse or that curse. Like the second time they met, only months after they put Imhotep in his grave the first time. He and Evy were not yet married, and it was before they returned to England, before Alex came to them.  
  
It was during that second meeting that Rick and Evy learned a little more about the man who first tried to kill them, then would have sacrificed his own life to save them. Rick was shocked to learn that Ardeth was his own age, only twenty-six at the time of the first rising. And only seventeen when he became the chieftain of the Med-jai. For some reason, he thought Ardeth was older than that. . .much older.  
  
Through the years, he saw the proud, stubborn chieftain slowly relax. . .though he never saw Ardeth as relaxed as he was just a few minutes ago. He dimly heard his friend laughing softly at Jonathan and Izzy's antics on the dirigible. But until he saw it, Rick would have never believed that Ardeth Bey was even capable of tackling his younger brother to the floor and tickling him, as if they were both Alex's age.  
  
Rick's thoughts were interrupted as Celia asked thoughtfully, 'You know, Evy, I just realized you've never explained how you came to meet Mr. Bey. Something was said a few minutes ago, about an explosion.' Rick almost coughed on his soup, which, fortunately, was ignored. Celia had another question in mind, as she continued, 'Ummm. . .you know, I never asked. I'm so sorry. . .what's your title. . .how should I address you?'  
  
She switched her attention from Evy to Ardeth as she spoke. Rick looked at his friend, wondering how Ardeth would handle this.  
  
'You may call me 'Ardeth.' You are Evy's friend. . .if she trusts you, then I am willing to do so as well. We have no titles among our people,' came the reply. Rick almost rolled his eyes, until Evy kicked him under the table. Trust Ardeth to make things more complicated than they had to be. On the other hand, Ardeth had a point. He never heard the Med- jai refer to him as anything other than 'our chief' or something similar, if not by name. Never 'your Majesty,' but that wasn't the Med-jai way of doing things.  
  
However, Celia simply inclined her head in acceptance and said almost as formally, 'I thank you for your trust. Evy tells me that you don't give it easily. . .I will do my best to be worthy of it.' Whoa, where did that come from? Celia continued, 'My father's people were Scottish, Ardeth, and among the Highlanders of Scotland in particular, the head of each clan was called the laird. Or, in the case of our family, 'the Ferguson,' when speaking of him.'  
  
'Customs interest you, Miss Ferguson?' Ardeth asked politely, and Celia bobbed her head. Jason Ferguson snorted in disgust, and Rick watched with amusement as Ardeth turned his patented 'Ardeth Bey Glare of Doom' on the younger American. Jason swallowed hard, dropping his eyes until he was staring fixedly into his own soup. Ardeth continued, returning his attention to the sister, 'What manner of customs interest you?'  
  
'Firstly, if I'm to call you 'Ardeth,' then it's only fair that you call me 'Celia,' or even 'Cecelia.' That's my name after all,' came the ready response. Rick grinned. Fair enough. Ardeth nodded his agreement, and Celia continued, 'All customs interest me: customs of marriage, customs of death. Burial, I should say. That's what got me interested in Egypt in the first place, learning about funerary customs among your ancestors. Well, at least your father's side of the family!'  
  
'And these customs do not disgust you?' Ardeth asked with interest. Rick looked at his friend. Ardeth was giving nothing away, none of the secrets he held. But Rick knew he was thinking about them, since they were related to what they were discussing. Celia shook her head vehemently, and Ardeth continued, 'Why not?' Actually, Rick wanted to know the answer to that as well.  
  
'Well, once it got my attention, I started studying up. Not just ancient Egypt, but other cultures as well. And I know it's silly to say, that it's only common sense, but every burial rite I've ever come across is some sort of preparation for the life after this one. . .if you believe such a thing exists. If you take it in that context, and the time and place of these people, things make perfect sense,' she replied.  
  
'I still say what you told me about that one punishment is just plain sick. I mean, what could possibly be worth inflicting a living death on someone. . .what was that called, sis?' Jason asked. Rick felt his blood run cold. Not just at the mention of the hom-dai, but the way the boy mentioned it. He looked over at Ardeth, who was staring back at him, his dark eyes filled with concern, the same concern Rick was now feeling. He remembered what he was thinking earlier, about Jason going to Hamunaptra, and quietly cursed himself for it. Now, he desperately hoped the boy didn't do anything of the sort.  
  
'The hom-dai, Jason. And you're right, reading about that was awful. Can you imagine- never mind, we're at the supper table,' Celia said, shaking her head. It wasn't just that, but the fact there were little ears listening as well, Rick was sure. Celia continued with a pointed look at her brother, 'In any event, since we haven't seen any plagues sweep over the earth, like the kind unleashed by Moses, it seems likely any victims of the hom-dai have never been awakened.'  
  
Rick almost choked on what he was eating, and Celia looked at him with a puzzled frown. He responded with a reassuring smile. . .until Jason retorted impatiently, 'Oh, don't tell me you believe in that, sis? C'mon, I thought you were smarter than that!' This time, Rick didn't miss the look of sheer fury that blazed from Celia's dark eyes. Whoa. Maybe he underestimated her, after all.  
  
Her voice was cold as she retorted, 'And why shouldn't I? After all, you believe in the ten plagues, unleashed by Moses against Egypt, and in the parting of the Red Sea. Why shouldn't I respect the possibility that the hom-dai is real?' Again, Rick's eyes sought and found Ardeth's. The Med-jai looked as worried as Rick himself felt. . .and not because of the brewing family argument. Jason began sputtering, and Celia added, 'I will not discuss this further with you, Jason. This is being very rude to our hosts, and Grandmother would be very disappointed.'  
  
All the color drained from the boy's face at that remark, as it hit its target. Looked like Celia had claws after all. She turned her attention to Evy, continuing in a low voice, 'My apologies, Evy, I shouldn't have allowed this to get out of control.' Out of control? No punches were thrown, and she silenced her brother. . .by Rick's figures, they were ahead of the game.  
  
One of these days, he would know better than to think like that. 


	4. Bonds of Friendship and Family

Nef/Lauren: Why thank you, m'dear. I couldn't resist the scene involving Anatol and Ardeth. That's so unusual for Ardeth, to behave like that, it was irresistible. Same thing with Miranda. When I was four years old, I had a huge crush on William Shatner, and I used to tell people I would marry Captain Kirk when I grew up. As for Anck, please be patient. . .that will unfold as the story goes along.  
  
Deana: Yeah, I know you detest Jason (impish grin). And I thought you'd like the image of Ardeth carrying Miranda on his shoulders. Evy says she's very sorry, but her matchmaking skills aren't good enough to match you up with Ardeth (tough break, yes? Wouldn't we both love to be matched up with Ardeth?)  
  
Part Three  
  
There was silence at the dinner table after Celia Ferguson apologized to Evy for the argument with her brother, a silence which lasted several moments. Ardeth made no attempt to break that silence, as he was more concerned with observing his companions. He knew O'Connell well enough to realize the other man was getting annoyed with the Ferguson boy. He also knew that Anatol was running out of patience. Ardeth felt his younger brother tensing up at the beginning of the argument.  
  
He put his hand on Anatol's shoulder, squeezing it to remind the younger Med-jai to remain calm. Celia seemed to have things under control, especially after she mentioned their grandmother. Not their mother. Interesting. He also found it interesting that she accepted the possibility of things which others would call 'supernatural.' She wasn't a spiritualist, and he wondered what caused her accepting attitude.  
  
After several moments of uncomfortable silence, while everyone ate and pretended nothing just happened, Alex finally piped up, 'Ardeth has been teaching me how to wield a sword. That's right, isn't it, Ardeth? Wield?' Ardeth nodded with a smile, and the eight year old continued, 'Miranda was dead on when she told you that women can fight, too, to defend their village. Mum can fight pretty good, with a sword, and with tridents. . .do you know what they are?' Celia nodded with a smile.  
  
With that established, Alex continued, 'Maybe he could teach you, too. You're about as old as Mum and she learned real fast! OW!' Ardeth hid a smile at the annoyed look Alex was giving his father, over the light tap to the back of Alex's head. Then he looked at Celia, who was turning bright red. Ardeth frowned at that. Was she embarrassed because Alex made reference to her age? She was younger than Ardeth.  
  
'That's very kind, Alex, but as patient as Ardeth seems to be, I'm sure I would try that patience to the point of no return,' Celia replied in answer, 'I'm dreadfully clumsy, for one thing.' Ardeth merely lifted his eyebrows at her answer. He had not yet lost patience with her annoying brother. . .so he thought it a fairly reasonable assumption that he could keep patience with her for a much longer amount of time.  
  
'I would be honored to teach you to defend yourself, Celia. There will be times when you will need to save yourself,' he said. Inwardly, he cursed himself, when he realized how he sounded. However, there was the faintest touch of a smile at the corners of her mouth, and a quick glance told him that she looked more amused than insulted. Again, he was aware he was inviting further intervention from Evy. . .to say nothing of trouble from Jason Ferguson, but he would not retract his offer.  
  
'My brother and I will be in Cairo for two weeks, Miss Ferguson. . .we cannot teach you everything, but we can teach you much,' Anatol offered. Ardeth looked at his younger brother steadily, and Anatol continued, 'I mean, you and your daughter. Miranda is the same age we are when we are first taught about combat.' Ardeth winced, having a guess how their guest would react to that suggestion. After all, most Western women were appalled at the idea of their four year old daughter learning even rudimentary self-defense.  
  
Celia surprised him. She said thoughtfully, 'That is a good idea. Miranda will need to know how to defend herself against bullies when I'm not around. Mind you, I don't want her starting fights, but she may not have a choice at some point in her life. If you gentlemen are truly certain about this, then I agree. You may have both of us as pupils.' Everyone was surprised by a happy cheer from little Miranda.  
  
Several smiling faces turned to her, and she said happily, 'Goody! I like Anatol and Ardeth, Mommy, they're pretty!' Ardeth almost choked on the piece of bread he just put into his mouth. Pretty? Ardeth Bey was called many things over the years. . .some complimentary and some not so complimentary. Some were downright rude, by Med-jai standards or by Western standards.  
  
But never was he described as 'pretty,' much less by a child of four. And much to his embarrassment, Ardeth felt a hot flush creeping up his throat, over his cheeks and continuing to his ears. He resolutely told himself that he was not blushing, that Med-jai didn't blush, least of all their leader. His traitorous body refused to heed him. Especially when Evy said quite seriously (albeit with a mischievous gleam in her dark eyes), 'You are absolutely right, Miranda. . .they are indeed pretty.'  
  
Now O'Connell was laughing at him, with his eyes, and Ardeth silently promised his friend retribution. The other man returned a look saying, to use an American phrase, 'bring it on.' Ardeth rather liked that phrase. Short and to the point, just the way the Med-jai chieftain liked his communications. Never mind. Ardeth would bide his time, and just when O'Connell was least expecting it, Ardeth would strike back. He allowed himself a bright, sinister grin, which resulted in a worried look from O'Connell.  
  
After dinner, the group moved back into the sitting room, where they stayed for the next several hours. One by one, they dropped off, heading to bed. First Miranda, then Alex, then Jason Ferguson. Anatol followed, until the only people remaining were Ardeth, Jonathan, O'Connell and Evy, and Celia. Ardeth was a little surprised that Jonathan remained, but kept it to himself. Jonathan changed after Ahm Shere, and Ardeth was still figuring out the new aspects to his old friend.  
  
Instead, as those last three bid him a sleepy 'good night,' Ardeth settled himself a bit uncomfortably on the davenport where he would be taking his rest during the next two weeks. Unfortunately or fortunately as the case may be, Ardeth had long legs. . .which made resting on the davenport a bit on the awkward side. However, he finally dropped off to sleep about twenty minutes after the last person went to bed.  
  
And that was when the dreams came back. He was free of them for a few nights, being too exhausted to dream, but now they returned with a vengeance. The jungle of Ahm Shere where he faced his brother's murderer for the last time. . .the desert sands where so many Med-jai boys died. The onslaught of Anubis Warriors, hurtling toward Ardeth's own forces. The mummy attack on the bus, the icy fingers of grief wrapping around his heart when Horus was shot out of the sky. Despite the part of his mind that knew this was only a dream, Ardeth was quickly lost to the memories, the horrors, and the grief.  
  
. . .  
  
Miranda Ferguson tried to sleep. She really, really tried. And at first, she did sleep, until Mommy came back into the room to go to bed. Miranda awoke then, as she always did when Mommy came into the room. She lay very still, but Mommy knew she was awake anyhow, and called softly, 'Go back to sleep, honey. We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, especially if Ardeth meant what he said.'  
  
Well, of course he meant it! Honestly, Mommy could be just as silly as Uncle Jason at times. But she wasn't mean like him. Miranda knew she wasn't supposed to feel this way, but there were times when she didn't like Uncle Jason very much. She knew she wasn't supposed to feel that way, because she was told that. Not by Mommy. Mainly because Miranda never told Mommy that.  
  
She didn't like to see her mommy sad, for any reason. She worked very hard at being a good girl, because of that. Uncle Jason made Mommy sad enough, so Miranda had to be extra good to make up for that. It was tiring. . .but Miranda liked it when she made her mother smile. She liked that a lot.  
  
Miranda pretended to go back to sleep, but gave up when she heard her mother's deep breathing. It meant Mommy was asleep. Miranda lay in bed, just listening to her mother breathe. At least, until she heard a thud downstairs, and the child's curiosity got the better of her. To say nothing of her imagination, which was creating all sorts of scary things in her mind. The little girl slipped from her bed and toddled out of the room, then down the stairs, holding carefully to the banister. She didn't want to fall down, after all.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, suddenly afraid of a new noise she heard. Then she heard a word. 'La.' La? La what? La-la-la? It didn't sound like someone was singing. It sounded like someone was hurting, and one thing Miranda could never resist was trying to make someone feel better when they were hurting. She walked into the room, to find Ardeth lying on his side, on the floor.  
  
Miranda frowned and padded to his side, her bare little feet making hardly any noise at all against the lush carpeting. As she reached Ardeth's side, he cried out suddenly, and Miranda back-pedaled. But only for a moment. Because a moment later, she heard soft sobs coming from the man on the floor. Miranda quietly moved forward once more and sat beside Ardeth, gently petting his black hair.  
  
'Don't cry, Ardeth. . .please don't cry. It's okay,' Miranda whispered. Not only was Ardeth pretty, but his hair was soft too. He moaned softly, then his eyes slowly opened. Miranda stopped petting his hair, and now patted his cheeks, tracing the tattoos which initially scared her. She repeated, 'It's okay, Ardeth, we won't let anybody hurt you.' His eyes cleared, but he didn't move.  
  
After a moment, he whispered, 'Miranda? What is wrong. . .wh. . .oh.' He looked around, muttering something under his breath. Miranda didn't understand what he was saying, but he shifted slightly on the floor, and Miranda pulled back. He took several deep breaths, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The little girl watched him closely, partly to make sure that he was all right and partly to see if he wiped any of the tattoos off when he wiped away his tears. After a moment, he asked, 'Did I frighten you, little one?'  
  
'A little,' Miranda answered honestly, 'I heard you go bump when you fell out of bed, and that made me afraid. Uncle Jason said that some people can't be trusted, and that someone would steal from us on the boat. I thought someone mighta been breakin' in to steal something from Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell. I was afraid you might be hurt. Ardeth, what did Uncle Jason mean about 'some' people?' He just sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes.  
  
'I am unhurt, little one,' Ardeth replied. Miranda thought he looked sad, and was on the point of saying so, when he continued, 'I was having a nightmare. Remembering things that I wish to forget, but cannot.' Miranda didn't understand what he meant, but she did understand that he looked even sadder. She put a tentative hand on his shoulder, knowing that it made her mommy feel better when she did that.  
  
Ardeth made a funny noise in his throat, and put his hand over hers. It felt big and warm, then Ardeth put his arm around her, drawing her into his lap. Miranda settled herself happily against his chest, her head resting just under his chin. She could hear his heart beat. It was beating really fast, the way Miranda's own heart beat when she was running. She tried to wrap her arms around his chest, but her arms wouldn't fit.  
  
So, she wrapped her arms around his neck instead. Slowly, as Ardeth began to breathe normally again, his heart slowed down. The pair sat in silence for several moments, then Miranda said softly, 'You were crying, Ardeth. How come you were crying? Mommy cries when she's sad or scared. I don't like it when Mommy cries. It makes me scared.' Ardeth tightened his arms around her.  
  
'I am sorry if I frightened you,' he said again, 'truly, there is nothing to fear. I only have bad memories, and those cannot harm you. I will not allow them to harm you.' Miranda didn't say anything to that, though she thought it was a funny thing to say. Why would he be afraid that his memories would hurt her? Maybe he could make other people see what he saw! There was another long silence, and Miranda felt Ardeth slowly relaxing.  
  
Then she said softly, 'I'm not afraid of you, Ardeth. You scared me, 'cause you were mad at Uncle Jason. But after you smiled at me, I stopped being scared. You're pretty and you smile nice, and I like you. You don't make my mommy sad.' She paused, then turned a little in his arms until she could see his face. She put her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes, and asked softly, 'Can I tell you something, Ardeth? A secret?'  
  
'I am Med-jai, little Miranda. Keeping secrets is something at which I am very good. I will keep your secret, and I will not think poorly of you,' Ardeth said solemnly. Miranda believed him. She turned back around, snuggling against him until her head was once more under his chin, and she could hear his heart beating against her ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, and didn't speak until she felt safe once more.  
  
'I don't always like Uncle Jason, Ardeth,' Miranda said softly. His arms tightened around her, and Miranda continued, 'He makes Mommy sad. He isn't nice to her. . .and he isn't nice to me. I'm supposed to always like him, but I don't.' She felt Ardeth sigh deeply, then she was turned on his lap, until her knees rested against his chest. Ardeth put his hands on either side of her face.  
  
'I told you, little one. . .you cannot make me think less of you. Indeed, this makes me think better of you, because it means you wish to protect your mama. . .as she protects you. I know that you do not like your uncle. This does not mean that you are bad,' Ardeth answered softly. Miranda looked at him for a long time, until she was satisfied that he was being honest and not just saying things.  
  
Then she shifted forward and hugged him hard. She heard him grunt a little, especially when one of her knees slid between his legs. Miranda remembered Uncle Jason making the same kind of noise once when she accidentally stepped between his legs, trying to get to something behind him. But Ardeth returned the embrace fiercely, whispering something.  
  
She didn't ask him what it meant, because it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered was the sound of his voice, and his arms around her body. He made her feel safe. Uncle Jason made her feel scared a lot of the time. She never knew what he would do, and that scared her. This man, however. . .she knew this man would never hurt her. Miranda whispered, 'Ardeth? What does 'la' mean? I heard you say that, and I didn't think you were singing.'  
  
'It is Arabic, my language. It means 'no.' You heard it while I was asleep?' Ardeth asked. Miranda nodded, her cheek brushing his hair. She needed to think about this a little more. She never heard people talking while they were asleep. . .maybe she should ask her mommy. There was another long silence, then Ardeth continued, sounding puzzled, 'Miranda? What did you mean, you did not think I was singing?'  
  
Miranda again pulled back to look at him, answering, 'You know, singing. La-la-la?' Ardeth stared at her in amazement, then his eyes lit up and he smiled. Miranda really liked it when he smiled. He gave a soft little laugh, then hugged her again. The little girl didn't protest. She liked his smiles, and she liked his hugs too. She thought maybe she should ask again in the morning about marrying him. Miranda was her mother's daughter, and she wasn't quite ready to give up yet. Much less on someone who was as pretty as Ardeth was.  
  
. . .  
  
Back when she first learned she was pregnant with her daughter, Celia Ferguson had what was called a panic attack. To put it bluntly. . .she was terrified out of her mind. Her mother was never particularly interested in either child, and the only mothering Celia ever received came from her grandmother, Annabelle. But up until Jason was four and she was nine, Celia only saw her grandmother once a year. She was afraid she hadn't learned enough from Annabelle during those visits.  
  
Celia forgot that while Madeleine Ferguson rarely paid attention to her and Jason, the mothering was often left to Celia herself. Caring for the little boy felt to the older sister, who would often be awakened by the sound of her younger brother crying. Without even realizing she was doing it, the small girl slowly learned to sense when her brother needed her, before his cries woke up the entire house.  
  
It was an instinct that served her well as a mother. Celia woke up at the slightest noise her daughter made. . .whether it was an infant cry for nourishment or changing. . .or her now-four year old child leaving her bed. Celia waited about ten minutes, thinking perhaps Miranda needed to use the lavatory or get a drink of water. When her daughter didn't return, Celia slipped on her robe and a pair of slippers, before heading downstairs.  
  
Contrary to what Miranda believed, Celia knew her daughter was uncomfortable with Jason. As yet, Jason hadn't done anything to warrant Celia cutting him out of her life. . .but she did watch him closely, and she decided that the first time Jason's vices got him into trouble, she would kick him out. She didn't care about what happened to her, but there was no way she would allow her brother to place Miranda in danger.  
  
So, she knew Miranda didn't go to Jason's room. A quick check told her that none of the other adults had the little girl in their rooms, not that Celia really expected her to be there. If Miranda had a bad dream, she would crawl into bed with Celia. Which left one other place. Downstairs. The American woman made her way downstairs. . .and stopped. She smiled faintly, seeing her daughter snuggling up to Ardeth Bey.  
  
A smile that slowly faded when she realized that the chieftain's face was wet with tears. She remained in the shadows, unable to move forward or back. Something she wouldn't have expected from Ardeth Bey was tears, even with the unexpected look into his soul earlier. Celia swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes from her daughter and this unexpectedly vulnerable man. She smiled to herself as she watched her little girl ease the chieftain's hurts with that way which was Miranda's alone.  
  
After several moments, Celia crept her way back upstairs. She knew beyond any doubt that her daughter would be safe with Ardeth Bey. She knew, too, that he needed the healing provided by a child. She didn't have to turn around to know that her daughter would fall back to sleep in the arms of the raven-haired young man. She knew, too, that he would fall asleep holding her. However, something happened as she reached the top of the stairs. . .she was met by Evy.  
  
The other young woman whispered, 'Is Ardeth all right? I heard him cry out. . . ever since we came back, he's been struggling with nightmares.' Celia noticed that Evy didn't specify where they were back from, or what happened. Which made her wonder what happened which caused these nightmares, and why Evy refused to talk about it in mixed company. There was one other thing. When they were traveling from the ship to the O'Connell house, she heard mention of more pleasant scorpions. . .including a scorpion they just faced.  
  
What in the name of Isis did that mean? However, Celia realized she wouldn't get the answer, not right now. That was fine. She could wait. She was the mother of a four year old, and children could be the most maddening creatures of all. Instead, she replied, 'He's all right. . . Miranda is with him.' Evy raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Celia added, 'She can heal whatever's hurting him. She's one of those children who can make adults feel better. Are you. . .never mind. You're not ready to talk about whatever happened to him. To all of you.'  
  
Evy sighed, answering, 'It isn't that I'm not ready to talk about it. I just don't think you're ready to hear it, much less believe what I tell you.' It was Celia's turn to raise her eyebrows, and Evy added hastily, 'It isn't that I don't believe you're narrow-minded. Oh no, quite the contrary. But some of the things which happened to us. . .well, they must be seen to be believed. I lived through them myself, and I have a hard time believing it.' Celia smiled wryly as the two women reversed course, moving silently back downstairs to the kitchen.  
  
'My grandmother was taken by Indians when she was ten years old, Evy. She lived with them until she was seventeen. The things she saw and experienced, most people wouldn't believe. She taught me that the logical and the rational have their place. But there is also a place for what people call the supernatural, that which cannot be explained by logic or reason. Maybe it's necessary for us to learn to trust each other first,' Celia replied.  
  
There was a long silence, then Evy said slowly, 'I suppose. . .what if I told you that the hom-dai is real?' Celia looked at her friend as they found seats in the kitchen. She said nothing, though her mind was racing. She thought back to the conversation at the dinner table that night. But instead of concentrating on her argument with her brother, she focused now on the reactions of the others.  
  
It didn't take a Bembridge scholar to realize that neither Rick O'Connell nor Ardeth liked her brother. If she was really honest with herself, she would acknowledge that at the moment, she didn't like Jason very much, either. And at the dinner table, their dislike of her brother seemed to have grown exponentially. She closed her eyes, seeing their faces in her mind's eye. They looked at each other several times, looking more and more worried.  
  
Worry which turned to contempt, in the blue-green eyes of Rick O'Connell, when Jason denigrated anyone who believed the hom-dai was real. Coldness swept over her. It was as if there was something Rick. . .and Ardeth. . .knew, something which she and Jason didn't know. Celia acknowledged that covered a lot of potential ground, as she just scratched the surface of the mystery that was Egypt.  
  
But this something, whatever it was, indicated to her that the hom- dai was real. She searched her memory, trying to remember if she heard anything about strange happenings in Egypt, during the last several years. Evy met Rick here, Evy told her that in her letters. And again, she acknowledged that 'strange happenings' covered a lot of ground. There were the mysterious deaths associated with Carter's expedition into the Valley of the Kings in 1922.  
  
At last, realizing that she would have to ask Evy, Celia said slowly, 'I thought the tension at the table was because of my argument with Jason. There was more to it?' Evy nodded slowly, sitting down across the table from Celia, and the American woman continued, 'Tell me.' She wasn't sure if she meant she wanted to know whatever Evy knew about the hom-dai. . .or what. She wasn't sure what she meant. She just knew she wanted to know.  
  
'The hom-dai was cast three thousand years ago. We still don't know who cast the hom-dai, whether it was at the order of the new pharaoh or at the instigation of the Med-jai. But it was cast on a high priest of Osiris named Imhotep,' Evy replied. Celia felt a sudden chill as the details of her dream came back to her. The priest. . .the two young concubines. Prince Rameses. Imhotep. The priest. Evy said softly, 'Celia? What is it?'  
  
She debated whether she should tell her friend about the dream. Well, if they were to really learn to trust each other, they had to start somewhere. A trust was built up between the two women, through their letters. . .but this was different. Deeper. More risky.  
  
What the American now had to decide was if it was worth the risk. It was. Evy took a risk in trusting her with the truth about the hom-dai. It was her turn now. Celia took a deep breath and said slowly, 'I had a dream. There were two young girls. Concubines, who were about fourteen or fifteen years old, no more than that. One of the girls was injured, and her friend took her to this high priest. She called him 'Imhotep.' Evy, I can't remember where I heard that name before my dream, but I must have.'  
  
'What were the names of the girls?' Evy asked, ignoring the last part of Celia's statement. Her dark eyes were intent. Too intent, and Celia started to get nervous. Evy reached over and took her hand, saying softly, 'Trust me again. Just trust me. Tell me the names of the girls in your dream.' Celia took a deep breath. At this moment, it wasn't a matter of trust. She nodded slowly and Evy gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  
  
'Their names were. . .the one who was injured was 'Ardath.' She was a foreign girl, raised by the Hebrew slaves, but she wasn't Hebrew or even Jewish,' Celia replied. She paused, thinking of the similarities between 'Ardath' and 'Ardeth,' then continued, 'The other girl was Egyptian. . .raised in Thebes, the poorest section of town. Her name was Anck. That's what Ardath kept calling her.' Evy turned white.  
  
'Celia,' she said slowly, 'I think you should tell me everything.' Celia looked at her friend, and Evy continued, "Imhotep was in love with a concubine, a mistress to the pharaoh, who was later to become his wife. Would have, rather. But, the important thing to us was. . .her name was Anck-su-namun.' Anck-su-namun. Anck. Celia looked back at her friend, making the obvious connection in her mind. Evy was right. This dream was definitely something Celia needed to tell Evy. In detail.  
  
. . .  
  
To say Evy was shocked would have been something of an understatement. As Celia explained her dream, the Englishwoman was running through her memories of being Nefertiri. While she was in the afterlife, after being stabbed by Anck-su-namun, the rest of her memories returned. Including her memories of her elder brother, Rameses, and his beloved concubine, Ardath. Evy knew that Meela Nais was the reincarnation of Anck- su-namun.  
  
There were two possibilities for Celia's dream. First, that she was given the images to prepare her for something to come, just as Evy remembered being Nefertiri before the awakening of the Scorpion King. The other possibility was that Celia was herself Ardath. Nefertiri didn't know Lady Ardath very well. . .she made it a practice not to get too close to the Hebrew slaves. She was proven right, when her brother lost the woman he loved.  
  
Still, that would explain why Evy hadn't sensed the other woman's previous identity earlier. The first time she saw Meela, in the crypt of the British Museum, Evy 'saw' Anck-su-namun as well. There was only one way to be sure. Evy took a deep breath, still holding Celia's hand, and opened her mind to Nefertiri's memories. It remained blank for several moments, and Evy was on the point of giving up, when. . .  
  
//Nefertiri watched silently as her brother carefully guided his concubine to a bench, easing her down. She was six months pregnant, and Rameses was even more protective of her, especially in light of her previous miscarriage. Nefertiri felt herself choke on her jealousy. It was so unfair. Rameses had his Ardath. Her father had Anck-su-namun to warm his bed, if not his heart. Why did Nefertiri have no one to love her?//  
  
Evy's eyes flew open, and she found Celia staring back at her. Oh dear God. It really was her. She searched her friend's eyes for a moment, seeking something, she didn't know what. Celia just looked at her, puzzled, then asked, 'Evy? Are you all right? You're looking at me as if I've just grown two heads. Maybe the dream didn't mean anything.' Evy shook herself, realizing that Celia just gave her one of the answers she sought. Celia didn't actually remember being Ardath. Not yet.  
  
And it wasn't for Evy to remind her. However, she remembered how she felt, once her life settled down after Ahm-Shere, and she finally had to deal with those memories. Once Celia did, indeed, remember that she was Lady Ardath, beloved concubine of Prince Rameses, she would need support. She would need Evy. The Englishwoman said slowly, 'Dreams always mean something, Celia. It's just a matter of finding out what that something means.'  
  
Celia gave a wry smile, asking, 'I don't suppose you have much experience with that, do you? Gramma always used to tell me that dreams meant different things to different people. That I would probably have to figure out what my dreams meant, on my own, because someone else would see things differently. I just don't know how to figure this out.' Evy nodded, understanding that feeling entirely too well, as she remembered her own struggles to understand her own dreams. . .memories. . .before finally realizing she was Nefertiri.  
  
Encouraged, Celia continued, 'I. . .all right, I know this will sound stupid, but I thought about reincarnation. I have some friends back in the States who are spiritualists, and they told me about it. But, if that was the question, why would I hear the thoughts of both girls, see from both points of view. . . .when I could only be one of them?' That was what was confusing to Evy as well. Why would she be dreaming about Anck-su-namun's memories, as well as her own?  
  
Aloud, she replied, 'It doesn't sound stupid at all, Celia. I. . .' Evy stopped. Should she tell Celia her own memories of Nefertiri? Evy was concerned that if she did, Celia would remember before she was meant to remember. No. Best to be safe than sorry in this situation, and Evy laughed at herself. Who would have ever thought that she would ever think 'better safe than sorry,' but dying then coming back to life tended to have that affect. She said carefully, 'I have memories of my own past lives. So it does not sound foolish to me. I just don't understand why you would dream of both girls.'  
  
Ardath and Anck-su-namun were friends, very good friends. Anck-su- namun was different in those days. Nefertiri never really paid much attention to Anck, either, but she was different. Less harsh. . .gentler even. It seemed to the young princess that any softness or gentleness in Anck-su-namun vanished with the murder of her best friend. Just as Nefertiri's own brother changed, so did Nefertiri's teacher.  
  
All right. Celia was Ardath. That still left the question of who Rameses was, in this lifetime. Evy knew from her own experience that past loves and hatreds often carried over into the current time, just as past relationships often did. Her own relationship with Rick, Ardeth's assertion that Rick was destined to protect her. Meela's past with Imhotep, as Anck-su-namun, and her hatred of Evy.  
  
The odds were good that Jonathan was Rameses in that past life, but for some reason, Evy just couldn't see it. It was logical, it made sense. But. . .something felt wrong. She couldn't pinpoint what that something was. Well, yes. . .Ardath swore to Rameses, shortly after their son was born, that she would always be with him. The labor had been difficult, and Rameses feared he would lose her. Ardath promised she would be with him, in this life and all others to follow. Which was what troubled Evy now.  
  
She just couldn't see Celia and Jonathan together. Evy loved her brother. . .that was never in question. But she just. . .the image of her brother and the quiet American woman just didn't want to form. For one thing, Celia wasn't even remotely attracted to Jonathan. . .and he seemed to view her as another little sister. So. . .who else was there? Evy shook her head, turning her attention back to her friend.  
  
Celia was lost in her own thoughts, it seemed. She stared into space, an unbearably sad expression on her face. Evy squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the here and now, and said once Celia's eyes were focused on her, 'We'll figure it out. I promise you. Now. . .we both need to get some sleep. How does some hot tea sound?' Celia managed a weak smile and she nodded, and Evy continued briskly, 'Very good! If you would be so kind as to check on Ardeth and your little miracle worker for me?'  
  
Celia's eyebrows raised, and Evy explained with a smile as she rose to her feet, 'The effect she has on Ardeth is nothing short of miraculous. I've never seen him this relaxed before, and I know Miranda had something to do with it.' Celia grinned, her dark eyes lighting up, but she nodded and rose to her feet. Evy smiled back, turning her attention to the all- important business of making tea. She just started the water when she heard Celia stifle a giggle. Rather than ask any questions, Evy joined Celia, and smiled.  
  
She didn't have a chance to look at them properly on the way back downstairs, but now, Evy could see Ardeth lying on his side on the davenport, little Miranda snuggled against him. Her hand rested on his cheek. . .and they were both sound asleep. For the first time in several nights, Ardeth wasn't haunted by nightmares. It was as she told Celia, just a few moments earlier. Miranda's effect on Ardeth was a miracle in and of itself. She wished, very briefly, that Rick could see how peaceful their friend seemed at the moment.  
  
And then she was glad he couldn't. Rick, no doubt, would tease Ardeth unmercifully about falling asleep, holding a four year old girl in his arms. Still. . .the picture before her was breathtakingly sweet, and Evy found herself thinking that Ardeth was both protecting, and being protected by, Miranda as he held her. The little girl's head rested gently on the warrior's chest, and Evy imagined the little girl could even hear the beat of the valiant heart.  
  
She scolded herself for being so flighty. . .but it was a thought which stayed with her as she and Miranda's mother returned to the kitchen for their tea. It occurred to Evy that perhaps she was behaving strangely. . .this was, after all, her first pregnancy. A lump formed in her throat. Her first pregnancy. How many times did she wish she could have been the one who carried Alex in her womb for nine months, and then gave birth to him?  
  
In that instant, Evy felt a sudden, powerful jealousy of her friend. Jealousy which quickly gave way to something else. She had never been through a pregnancy. . .but Celia had. Perhaps her American friend could act as her guide during the next several months? Evy knew none of the men realized this, but Celia lost her job at the museum, due to the Depression. Her job was given to a man with a family to feed. Evy wondered how hard it would be, to convince Celia to remain in Egypt until the baby was born. . .  
  
. . .  
  
//She knows.//  
  
Mathayus, the Scorpion King, looked at his young companion. Anck-su- namun was only twenty-five years old when she died. To a man who betrayed everything he ever believed in, by striking that dark bargain with Anubis, she seemed just a child. A foolish child, at that. Not that Mathayus had any room to talk. . .he made his share of stupid mistakes. Not the least of which was that bargain with Anubis.  
  
Mathayus moved slowly to the former concubine's side, saying simply, //Yes.// They both watched the tentative bonds of friendship, forged in missives, were strengthened with that cup of tea in a Cairo kitchen. In that previous life, as Ardath and Nefertiri, the pair barely knew each other. Nefertiri feared allowing herself to care for her brother's beloved, and despite the pranks she and Anck-su-namun pulled on Nefertiri, Ardath feared going too far. It was enough for her, that she had the love of Rameses.  
  
Mathayus smiled faintly, as he read the thoughts of his companion. She, too, was thinking about the pranks played by the two young concubines on the princess. Anck-su-namun bitterly resented Nefertiri, for having a father who loved her. Among other reasons.  
  
It was in this case that Anck's love for Ardath often came into play. The pranks pulled on the princess would have been far more malicious. . .dangerous, even. . .if Ardath hadn't counseled her friend against them. As if hearing his thoughts (wasn't that frightening), Anck said softly, //She did not wish to harm anyone. She once told me. . . she once told me that she only wanted to see Nefertiri laugh more.//  
  
//She has changed little,// Mathayus observed and Anck nodded sadly, reaching out to gently trace Celia's face with the tip of her finger. Mathayus swallowed hard, seeing the love in the gesture, and continued, //It surprises you. . .how little time it required, for Evelyn O'Connell to realize Celia Ferguson's previous connection to her. Why? Because of the time it took Meela Nais to recover your memories?//  
  
Anck glared at him, hissing, //Do not mention the name of that. . .that. . .that. . . doxy to me! She is nothing! Nothing of me was in her! I wanted not. . .I had no wish to kill Evelyn O'Connell. I wanted to face Nefertiri.// Mathayus raised his eyebrows at that. In the words of the Americans, Anck-su-namun got her ass kicked when she faced off with Nefertiri/Evelyn.  
  
However, he didn't say so, instead choosing to look back at the mortals below them. Celia Ferguson was sipping tea in the kitchen with Evelyn O'Connell, while Ardeth Bey slept peacefully. Contrary to what the mortals believed, there was no magic contained within the small body of Miranda Ferguson. No magic save love, and that, Mathayus believed, was quite possibly the most powerful magic of all.  
  
Or was that the magic to which Miranda's mother referred? It was so long since Mathayus walked amongst the mortals, he no longer could tell what they meant at times. And, much to his surprise, he realized he missed that human connection. Perhaps that was why he hadn't argued. . .much. . .when Ma'at told him that Anck would be joining him. One reason, of course.  
  
The other being, he really did NOT want to find himself on the wrong side of the goddess. Somehow, in a way that Mathayus did not understand, Ma'at took his soul from Anubis. She reminded him. . .live free and die well. When he lost control of his life, he betrayed both halves of that. He did not live free, in the last few years of his life, and he most assuredly did not die well. Neither time.  
  
Mathayus forced himself to concentrate on the mortals, on what he was thinking about only a few minutes earlier. About the magic that was love. Such a mundane little word, for something that had the potential to change lives, to change the world, to turn that world upside down. Just as its counterpart, hate. But in some ways, hate was just another facet of love, which would provoke an entirely new headache.  
  
For now, he would concentrate on the mortals, and the changes wrought in them by love. He wanted to remember what that was like, to love. To be loved. He wanted to remember what could be accomplished with love.  
  
Three thousand years did not break the bonds between the souls of Lady Ardath and Prince Rameses. Love gave little Alex O'Connell the strength and the vision to guide his parents to Ahm Shere, and later to bring his wrongly murdered mother back to life. Love gave Rick O'Connell the necessary fury to destroy the corrupted body and soul of Mathayus, the Scorpion King, and in a strange sort of way, set him free.  
  
Love guided the actions and decisions of Ardeth Bey. Perhaps they were not always the right decisions. . .but always, the choices he made were out of love for his people. Mathayus was quite fascinated by Ardeth Bey. In his own lifetime, the young chieftain would have been a worthy ally. . .or equally worthy opponent. Perhaps a touch too softhearted, but that was part of the fascination. He was a magnificent warrior, with a tender heart.  
  
He seemed to find a way to balance the two halves of him, though he was struggling at the moment. That balance was something Mathayus lost in his later years, and the Scorpion King wanted to watch Ardeth, to see if he managed to regain his balance. He could hear the young chieftain's thoughts, and felt a lump in what would have been his throat, if he had still been alive, when he saw the memories of the battle at Ahm Shere.  
  
Memories. That reminded Mathayus. What would happen when Celia Ferguson remembered the rest of her life as Lady Ardath? Would she, as Evelyn O'Connell had, remember her fighting skills? Lady Ardath was never as skilled as Anck-su-namun in the fighting arts, nor was she as skilled as Nefertiri, but she was competent. If Khaldun had the courage to attack Rameses and Ardath in a face-to-face confrontation, Ardath would have survived. But not even the strongest of men could have survived the dose of poison in the wine. Not Rameses. Not Mathayus himself, who had the blood of scorpions in his veins.  
  
Much less a young woman who was still recovering from childbirth. The royal physician warned Rameses not to attempt for any more children at least for another two years, to give Ardath's small body time to heal from the birth of their infant son. And much as it grieved Mathayus, he saw into the mind of Rameses, and knew the prince had no intention of touching his beloved until her body finished healing.  
  
It grieved Mathayus, because he saw himself in the grief-stricken prince. After the loss of Cassandra, in the tenth year of his reign, Mathayus spun out of control. Just as Rameses spun out of control, following the death of his concubine. The Scorpion King sought revenge for Cassandra's murder, and it snowballed. First one enemy, and then another, until he became no better than the one who preceded him. And until he lost all sense of whom he was, and from whence he came.  
  
Was that why he admired Ardeth Bey? Because the determined chieftain reminded Mathayus of whom he was? At least in some ways. Mathayus had more of a chance to exercise his sense of humor than the Med-jai chieftain did. So strange. Two very different men, separated by millennia, both of whom were mirrors to the soul of the Scorpion King. One, a grieving prince, devastated by the loss of the queen of his heart. The other, a solemn king of his people and a visionary.  
  
Mathayus did not know much about Ardeth Bey's destiny. He knew it was his fate to face the evil that resided at Hamunaptra for thousands of years. It infected Khaldun, then so many others since. What Mathayus could not see was who would emerge the victor. Long ago, he boasted to Cassandra that he made his own destiny. And to a degree, that was true. But there were some things that could not be avoided.  
  
He only prayed that Khaldun's defeat was among those things that could not be avoided. For if the ancient spirit, which merged with the jealous prince's soul, was fully awakened in the world, the resulting chaos would make both the hom-dai and the Scorpion King's wrath look like child's play. Mathayus smiled to himself, as something occurred to him. He was barely aware that Anck was still staring at her friend sadly. She would be all right for now. There was something he needed to discover.  
  
. . .  
  
Celia and Evy stayed in the kitchen a little longer. . .just long enough for the tea to start to work. Celia was already exhausted from everything that occurred during her first day in Egypt, and Evy realized as they left the kitchen that she would need to help her friend up the stairs. She glanced over at the sleeping Med-jai, and the little girl still tucked protectively against his chest and swallowed hard. She would come back down in a few minutes, first, however, she had to get Celia back to bed.  
  
It took a few minutes, as Evy was only a few inches taller than Celia, but the two women eventually made it to Celia's room, where the American collapsed gratefully into her bed. Evy said softly, covering Celia up with her blanket, 'You have no need to worry for Miranda. . .I shall retrieve her.' Celia nodded, drifting off to sleep with a sleepy smile and a faint sigh, as her body finally gave into its exhaustion.  
  
Evy patted her friend's shoulder, then went back downstairs. She gently removed Miranda from Ardeth's protective grasp, placing her on the table beside the davenport. Evy shuddered, thinking she really should have moved it before they all headed to bed. Luckily, it seemed as if Ardeth didn't hit his head when he fell. The Med-jai opened his eyes sleepily, reminding Evy of an overly tired little boy.  
  
She smiled, leaning over him as she covered him with the blanket, and whispered, 'Go back to sleep, Ardeth, I'm merely taking Miranda back to bed.' The brown eyes regarded her for a moment, then slowly slid shut once more. Evy gently smoothed his black hair back from his forehead, then turned back to Miranda, scooping her into her arms and carrying her upstairs to the bedroom she shared with her mother.  
  
Once Miranda was back in her own bed and covered up, Evy realized she wasn't tired. Sighing, she went back downstairs to the library. She wanted to do some research into Rameses, and possibly Lady Ardath as well. Her memories told her that Nefertiri's almost sister-in-law died shortly after giving birth, but not what happened to the child. Evy supposed it was possible Rameses killed the child, but she didn't think it likely. That would have been a betrayal of his beloved Ardath, and immediately after her death, he was still reasonable.  
  
Aside from torturing Khaldun to death, of course. Evy shuddered, as the memory of that particular conversation returned to her mind. Like her brother, Nefertiri had little use for their cousin Khaldun. He was a. . .well, now that she thought about it, he was a great deal like that nasty little fellow, Beni. In spite of herself, Nefertiri pitied Khaldun as he died very slowly and painfully. Knowing, however, that he brought it on himself.  
  
It was her brother's intention only to kill him, for taking the life of Ardath. Unfortunately, when Khaldun mocked Rameses about the death of his concubine, mocked the young girl herself, he sealed his fate. Rameses snapped and tortured his cousin to death. That was the beginning. After torturing Khaldun to death, Rameses was sickened by the blood on his hands, and gave his infant son to one of the Med-jai.  
  
Nefertiri protested that she could take care of the baby. Rameses didn't listen, however; and Nefertiri watched her nephew grow up as a Med- jai. She knew why he did it, of course. The Med-jai loved Ardath for the courage she demonstrated at her first meeting with Rameses, when she placed her own life in danger to protect a Med-jai child. Evy stopped short, remembering that day.  
  
Nefertiri wasn't present at the time, but she heard about it from Rameses. Khaldun was never one of their favored cousins. In terms of physical appearance, he was very pleasing to the eye. But he was always jealous of Rameses, often seeking to undercut him with Nefertiri herself and with their father Seti. Nefertiri, however, quickly learned after a few wise words from Imhotep, who was one of Rameses' best friends.  
  
'Tiri,' he told her, using the family nickname for her, 'Khaldun cares nothing for you. He was not always so. . .but people change. Hatred and jealousy have overridden the love he once felt for you and your brother. He cares nothing for you now, only for the pain he can inflict upon Rameses through you. So have a care, my princess. Have a care that you do not betray your brother, in the name of your cousin.'  
  
Looking back, she wondered if he was warning her about himself, as well as Khaldun? This was actually before her brother's first meeting with Ardath, before Imhotep's own first meeting with Anck-su-namun. Evy sighed, closing her eyes, and the images of that previous life faded away. But the memories remained of the light dying in her brother's eyes, as Ardath died in his arms.  
  
Well, the past was past, and the future would play out in its own time. Evy knew this, just as she knew that her unborn child was a baby girl. How did Ardeth put it? Only the journey is written, not the destination. Events were preordained, but not how the story would end. Evy wondered, as she put the dishes in the sink, about this latest series of events. Right now, Rick was being very accommodating, but what would happen when he found out that Celia was the reincarnation of another concubine?  
  
Evy knew her husband was protective of her and Alex, sometimes over- protective. Sometimes lashing out at people who only wished to help. Jonathan told her about his less than warm reception of Ardeth, after she was kidnapped. Evy remembered the bus ride back to the house, holding Ardeth's trembling body in her arms, and listening intently as Jonathan explained what happened. And Ardeth kept whispering, 'Not his fault. Not his fault. Was afraid for you.'  
  
Well, yes, Evy knew that. But that didn't excuse Rick's behavior. Ardeth's arrival in England saved her life and Alex's. He helped them save Alex a second time. And while he hadn't told them about the bracelet killing Alex, Evy knew it could only be because Ardeth himself hadn't known that part. She smiled to herself as she finished rinsing out the dishes, and headed back upstairs. No, when he knew something like that, Ardeth made sure they knew.  
  
So yes, Evy was concerned about how her husband would react when he learned they had the reincarnation of another concubine from Seti's court, here under their roof. Ardath never did anything to harm Nefertiri. In fact, now that Evy thought about it, she often aided Anck in rather playful practical jokes on Nefertiri. . .thought Evy had no doubt the playful nature was Ardath's input, rather than Anck-su-namun.  
  
Still, that didn't answer the questions she knew Rick would ask. First and foremost, what was Celia's celestial purpose here in Egypt? As the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, she had unfinished business. Evy knew Ardath had to find Rameses again, that she would honor the promise made three thousand years earlier. The trouble was, in this family, things were rarely so simple, especially when it came to past lives. Rick was still struggling with the knowledge he was a Med-jai. And, they just found out that Ardeth didn't remember ANY of his own past lives. Something Evy found very curious.  
  
She learned tonight that Ardeth was half-Greek. In Greek legend, there was the River Lethe, which held the waters of forgetting and healing. He served the ancient Egyptian gods, but perhaps the Greek gods felt that he belonged to them as well. This troubled her, for Ardeth, of all people, should remember his own past lives. He told them he thought he was always a Med-jai. Evy wasn't so sure. She wasn't sure why, it just felt wrong.  
  
It was important. She knew it was important, his identity in Seti's court, and she knew it was important, why he didn't remember. Of all people, the Med-jai chieftain would need to remember his past lives. Why didn't he? Unless. . . Evy stopped on the stairs. Unless the memories of those previous lives, one in particular, were so terrible, the gods sought to protect him from those memories?  
  
Perhaps as a Med-jai chieftain, he would NEED to be protected from those memories, as he had far too many horrific memories of his own lifetime. The men he had to kill, in order to protect Hamunaptra. Evy knew Ardeth well enough to realize that despite his fierce appearance, he had a gentle heart. And if his duty in this life weighed heavily, what might the memories of his past lives do?  
  
Evy gazed at her sleeping friend, who was for once not tormented by nightmares. She whispered, 'I don't know whom you were, Ardeth. But I do know this. Whatever happened, it will not make me love you less, or think less of you. Ardeth Bey did not do those things. And I will not leave you to face those memories alone. Sleep well, my friend. You will never have to face your nightmares alone again.' 


	5. Plans made, Memories return

Part Four  
  
It ended up being easier to slip out of the house than he thought. The previous day, while Celia and Miranda were lagging behind, and before the quadruplets of doom swept over him, Jason Ferguson connected with three men who were interested in finding Hamunaptra. One of them was there in the last few months. According to this man, he helped to unearth a treasure beyond imagination, which was later lost.  
  
//But there were other treasures,// he told the young American, //and you can help us. There are things which you can do, to assure us safe passage through the desert.// When Jason asked him what he meant by that, the man just smiled. //You will see soon enough, Yankee boy,// he said. Ignoring how much he hated being called 'Yankee,' the American did arrange to meet them on the second day, in the morning. Jason feared it would be difficult to leave, but he received an unexpected break.  
  
That second day was the first day of his sister and niece's lessons with the Med-jai brothers. The house was deserted, as the host family was outside watching the younger Med-jai teach Miranda basic skills. Jason peeked out the window of the kitchen, to find his sister under a tree with Evelyn O'Connell and the Med-jai chieftain, watching. Jason knew it would likely take most of the day before his sister even got her first lesson. His niece was terribly determined, and she insisted on doing something perfect before moving on.  
  
It was a good attribute for a man to have, but out of place in a woman, or so Jason was told by his friends. Jason never knew any women who were *not* determined. His mother was, in her own way, just as determined as his sister and his niece. Determined that her daughter would not be the embarrassment to the family that Gramma Annabelle was. Why, the idea that a member of her family was raised by savages!  
  
But Celia proved to be just as determined as Madeleine Ferguson. She loved books and history. She ignored that she wasn't very pretty, and instead lost herself in her lifelong fascination with other cultures. Their grandmother, Jason knew, was directly responsible for that, with her stories of growing up among the Indians. He remembered his sister answering the questions of the Med-jai chieftain at dinner the previous night.  
  
What she didn't tell the Med-jai was why she became so interested in funeral rites. They were seven and twelve, respectively, when their grandfather died. Celia was devastated, especially when she realized her grandfather would be cremated, rather than buried. Annabelle told her that it was her grandfather's wish, to have his ashes scattered at sea. He was a sailor, and it was how Annabelle met him.  
  
All funeral rites, Annabelle told her granddaughter, perhaps to deal with her own grief, are an expression of love. Because Annabelle loved her husband, she honored his wishes. And that was all right, because now, whenever Annabelle looked at the sea, she would know he was still with her. For the rest of her own life, she would have the sea as a reminder of her husband, instead of a single gravestone.  
  
Perhaps their grandmother found solace, too, in telling Celia about the funeral practices of the Indians she lived with. Jason just knew that was where it began, and here is where it led, to Egypt. Because when she learned about the mummies of Egypt, she was drawn further into the mystery of this exotic land. In the beginning, Jason was disgusted by his sister's new fascination.  
  
That was the case until he found out about the riches of Egypt, in the tombs of long-dead kings. Being a very practical young man, Jason didn't see anything wrong with taking gold from those who no longer needed it. He was very much alive, and he needed it. His family was hit hard with the Depression, along with the rest of the country, and while Jason hated his father, the young man missed having servants. Celia didn't seem to care, but she was bull-headed enough to make her own way in the world. Jason didn't know how. He hadn't inherited the same determination possessed by his sister.  
  
The determination she inherited from the women of their line. Gramma Annabelle. She lived in Canada for a number of years, in the province of British Columbia, when she was with that Indian tribe. She taught his sister that she had a power all her own as a woman, and not the feminine wiles of her mother. //No,// she told her only granddaughter, //no, you have a strength and a power that remains strong by being true to yourself.// She had no such words of wisdom for Jason, and for that, Jason always hated both his grandmother and his sister.  
  
It sometimes seemed to Jason that he spent half his life, tied up in hatred. He hated his mother, for forcing his older sister to be the adult in the family. It was Celia who protected him from their father, and their mother was never around. He hated his father for his drinking and his rages, for Jason being afraid all the time. He hated his grandmother, for loving his sister more than she loved him. Sure, he understood that Annabelle loved him. He also understood that she only had a daughter, no sons, and she didn't know how to talk to him.  
  
He hated his sister, for taking care of him, and for being so foolish as to fall for that liar, Carstairs. She was supposed to see through him, didn't she know that? She was supposed to take care of Jason, not the other way around. And he hated his niece, for taking his sister's love from him. For now being Celia's top priority. And most of all, he hated himself, for being such a selfish brat. There was a part of him that recognized the world didn't revolve around him. The stronger part didn't care.  
  
Knowing the two Med-jai, and O'Connell, were suspicious of him, Jason arranged his bed so it looked like he was still asleep. It was a trick he learned from Celia, who used it when their father got out of control. He remembered being six years old, clinging to his sister's hand as they left the house and went to their grandparents. He came to enjoy those nights, because they would spend a week with Annabelle and Thomas. They meant safety.  
  
Jason forced those memories to the back of his mind. He was supposed to meet his potential business partners in the bazaar, in thirty minutes, and according to the timepiece his grandmother gave him, he would be running late. The young man gave one last look through the window, then he quietly slipped from the house. If he thought he left un-noticed, he was wrong. There was one person unaccounted for, one who was not watching the fight lessons outside. And he watched silently as Jason left the house.  
  
. . .  
  
It was painful to say, but Jonathan Carnahan saw a lot of himself in young Jason Ferguson. Jason was motivated by the same things Jonathan was, seven years earlier. There was greed, a desire to live up to the glory of his father and determination of his sister. Possibly even jealousy of his sister. Jonathan saw that clearly in the young man. Whether Jason was willing to admit it or not, he was jealous of his sister, almost blind and deaf with it.  
  
That kind of jealousy led only to death and heartbreak, Jonathan saw that clearly in the past. Like his brother-in-law and Ardeth Bey, Jonathan realized the American planned to go to Hamunaptra. Like those two men, he also knew what a disaster that would be. He should know. He lived through it twice, and both times, he almost lost his baby sister. And now, this little fool was prepared to throw away the lives of his niece and his sister.  
  
Jonathan couldn't have said how he knew that would happen. Maybe it was Jason's naked contempt for what he saw as his sister's weakness and/or stupidity. Jonathan had spent too much of his life being afraid and considered a fool not to recognize that expression. God knew he saw it enough in the eyes of his brother-in-law. But Jonathan also recognized strength, intelligence and courage.  
  
Again, he saw it in Alex, in the aforementioned brother-in-law, in Jonathan's sister, in his father and stepmother. And, of course, their other houseguest, Ardeth Bey. Truly a strange relationship with that young man. Most of the time, Jonathan found himself forgetting that Ardeth was still young, only a few years older than Evy, and a year younger than Rick.  
  
It was easy to forget that he was younger than Jonathan. At least, it was until the previous night when the man Jonathan thought incapable of laughing tackled young Anatol to the ground and tickled the younger brother until he was breathless. Gone, for a brief time, was the warrior whom Jonathan knew. And, it seemed, Anatol was as surprised by the emergence of the older brother, rather than the warrior and leader, for he said he missed his older brother.  
  
So yes, Jonathan knew quite a few people with courage, and even more who were cowards. He knew that Celia Ferguson was no coward. She was here, after all! She left the relative safety of the United States for Egypt, not the safest place in the world for a young Western woman with a small child and the dubious protection of her younger brother. And while the US was hit hard by the Depression, the rest of the world found things even more difficult. Coming all this way, to visit someone she only knew through letters. . .that was an act of courage in and of itself, though Jason Ferguson was too young, too inexperienced, too secure in his own superiority to understand that.  
  
On the other hand, O'Connell probably would have made that same mistake. Jonathan grew up in Egypt, as Evy had, so neither would have ever considered the dangers which Celia and Miranda faced. It took Ardeth Bey to point those dangers out. Was Celia Ferguson not coming from a totally different society? Had she ever been to Egypt? Did she know the dangers of walking through the streets of Cairo alone, particularly with a small child?  
  
She did not. She was warned about the dangers, and Evy reported she would take necessary precautions. But she would still come. However, Jonathan realized she had more sense than to go Hamunaptra. Her contributions to the dinner table the previous night demonstrated that she had more respect for the ancient legends. He rather liked her rejoinder, regarding the parting of the Red Sea. That was quite clever!  
  
'Going somewhere?' a soft voice inquired. Jonathan almost jumped out of his skin. Damnation, would the man stop doing that to him? He turned and glared at the owner of the voice. Ardeth smiled, stepping out of the shadows and continued, 'I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and excused myself. Miranda is quite determined to accomplish as much as she can today, so it will be sometime before I am needed.'  
  
This was said dryly, and Jonathan bit back a grin. Instead, he said softly, 'I caught Jason Ferguson leaving the house. I dunno about you, Ardeth old boy, but I have a bad feeling he means to go to Hamunaptra.' Ardeth nodded shortly, the smile dying, and Jonathan continued, 'There was a good space between him and his sister yesterday. Plenty of time for him to hook up with unscrupulous characters, and that poor girl would know nothing.' Again, Ardeth nodded and Jonathan thought with irritation, //Oh, don't tell me I've just wasted my time, when Ardeth has already sent men after him.// He was close, he discovered.  
  
'You are correct. I had my men in the crowd yesterday. He is meeting three men in the bazaar today. They were instructed to go there at dawn, and wait for him to arrive. I did not know he would be going to Hamunaptra, but I was suspicious at the length he put between himself and his sister,' Ardeth explained. He gave a somewhat broader grin, adding, 'Very good, Jonathan.' The Englishman puffed up with pride at the praise.  
  
'Well, since you Med-jai chaps have everything under control. . .could you please stop sneaking up on me?' Jonathan asked a bit plaintively. This time, Ardeth threw back his head and laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. The laughter startled Jonathan and sent him tumbling through memories. He no longer saw Ardeth Bey, but another man. This man also had black hair and dark eyes, and he laughed as steaming water was poured into his bath. His face was obscured by steam, but Jonathan knew somehow this was his friend.  
  
Jonathan, who was no longer Jonathan, sat opposite him in the steaming water, observing, 'I am glad to see you so happy, old friend. We have been on too many campaigns, seen too much bloodshed. And too long since I have seen you smile truly, from your heart. Were it possible for me to find that which I seek.' His heart added, //or, for that which I seek, to be possible for me.// What on earth did *that* mean?  
  
'I am glad to be happy, my friend. Until I met my Lady, I never realized just how little I smiled or laughed,' came the response. The other man sighed, sitting back and allowing the hot water to do its healing work. There was a long silence, then the other man asked almost shyly, 'If I asked her, do you think she would consent to become my wife, the queen of my land, as well as the queen of my heart?'  
  
'She would do whatever you asked her, my friend. But I would not recommend asking her such a thing. She would never be happy as a queen of Egypt,' came the response from a third man, whom Jonathan recognized as Rick. Only in this lifetime, he wore the markings of a Med-jai. It was only those markings which allowed Jonathan to recognize the past self of his brother in law, for the sarcastic humor and one-liners which characterized his sister's husband were strangely absent in this Med-jai. There was a long pause, then he added gently, 'She wishes only for your love, nothing more, my lord. She certainly wishes for no grand titles.'  
  
'I would give her the world, if she asked. She already has my love, for all eternity. If the gods should take me from her in this lifetime, then I shall find her in the next, and each lifetime after that,' came the vow. This met with silence, a reverent silence, for such a vow was never spoken by this man. And Jonathan came back to himself with a start. He found himself looking into the now-worried eyes of Ardeth Bey. The chieftain asked, obviously the second time he asked such a thing, 'Are you all right?'  
  
'Of course, I'm fine,' Jonathan answered a bit dazedly. That was the strangest thing. He knew the man in the hot tub was Ardeth, in his previous lifetime, but he never saw his face. He saw Rick's face clearly enough, but not Ardeth's. That was strange. Jonathan looked at his friend, who still looked concerned, and asked slowly, 'I say, do you remember any of your previous lives?'  
  
He was unaware that his sister asked the same question, and he quickly gave himself a mental kick when he saw the strange expression on Ardeth's face. The chieftain answered slowly, 'No. I know that I lived before. But those memories are denied me.' There was a very real tone of fear in his voice, and Jonathan felt the foundations of his own world rock under his feet. He saw, and heard, Ardeth Bey frightened before. But this was a different type of fear.  
  
Why would the gods deny him his memories? There was only one reason Jonathan could think of, and he didn't like that one bit. Ardeth Bey was one of the most courageous, most honorable men whom Jonathan had ever known. The only explanation that sounded reasonable was that his friend was somehow responsible for a great atrocity. But that couldn't be, could it? The lives he took to protect the world from Hamunaptra weighed heavily on Ardeth's soul, but that was different. How could Ardeth be responsible for a terrible atrocity?  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth Bey awakened in the morning with a curious lightness in his chest. He vaguely remembered Evy removing Miranda from his arms, so she could return the little girl to bed. The chieftain realized just how exhausted he was, following the nightmare. Usually, he was much more alert when he woke up; if not for the exhaustion caused by the nightmares, Evy might have found a dagger at her throat.  
  
Ardeth did feel better than he had the previous day. However, ever since Ahm Shere, he found himself feeling weaker, less capable. Perhaps his brother was right, perhaps he did need a vacation. He thought, however, that tonight, he would push the table away from the davenport and sleep on the floor. It would likely be much more comfortable. And he need not worry about falling from the davenport and waking up anyone else in the house.  
  
Little girls should not be awakened by the sound of a body falling from a davenport. But selfishly, Ardeth was glad Miranda *did* come downstairs the previous night. He forgot how good it felt to have a small body cuddling against his own, trusting in him to protect her even while they slept. And much as his niece and nephew wished, they seldom had the opportunity to take naps when he was around. Instead, because of the limited time they had, they fought to stay awake and enjoy their time with him.  
  
O'Connell would have laughed himself silly (short trip, Ardeth thought privately), if he could have heard what was going through the chieftain's mind at the moment. Evy, on the other hand, would understand. The warrior sometimes wondered if it registered with O'Connell that Ardeth was just a human being. . .that like O'Connell himself, Ardeth took pleasure in spending time with the small ones of his family.  
  
Yes. He would admit it to himself. He was lonely. He missed having someone at his side during the night, someone to hold and to hold him. Ardeth was many things, but he was not a coward, and he was not a liar. He was lonely, and being with Miranda Ferguson eased that loneliness, if only for a while. He still blushed when he remembered how she called him 'pretty,' but it was a welcome kind of warmth.  
  
He found a different kind of solace in the time he spent with Miranda's mother that morning, before he noticed Jonathan slipping out. The kind found in another adult who understood your loneliness and shared it. Due to the perfidy of Miranda's father, the young American woman believed she would never find someone to love her. She was regarded as damaged goods. Stupidity. Pure stupidity. Had such a thing occurred within the Med-jai tribe, the mother would have been regarded as a widow and treated with the same respect.  
  
This morning, while Anatol went through the lessons with Miranda, Celia quietly told Ardeth about her dreams the previous day. Of Anck-su- namun and her friend, Lady Ardath. The young foreign concubine was a popular figure in Med-jai legend, and Ardeth himself was named for her. Lady Ardath's story struck a cord in Ardeth's mother Altair, perhaps seeing herself in that long-ago girl.  
  
Ardeth could see her point. Altair came from Greece with her family, eventually marrying the future chieftain. Lady Ardath came from. . .well, no one was entirely sure where she was born, though Ardeth thought it was likely she came from what was today Europe. According to the stories, she was discovered in a field of flowers by Hebrew slaves when she was but four years old. The same age, Ardeth realized with a chill, that Miranda Ferguson was now. And her new family called her 'Ardath,' which meant 'a flowering field.'  
  
She grew up among the Hebrews, until she was about ten, when she was taken to the royal palace at Thebes. There, she met Anck-su-namun, who became her friend and protector. This was always difficult for Ardeth and other Med-jai children to understand. . .in the stories which involved Lady Ardath, Anck-su-namun was a loving, loyal friend. But she would grow up to kill Seti. It took time, as it always did, to understand that life was not black and white, and that people were a combination of good and bad.  
  
As an adult, Ardeth thought it was likely that Lady Ardath brought out the best in her forever friend, but no one would ever know what might have happened if Anck-su-namun was given more time with her gentle foreign sister. At the age of twenty, only days after giving birth to the son of Prince Rameses, Lady Ardath was murdered. Rameses, who loved Ardath with a passion beyond expression, went insane with grief.  
  
Like Anck-su-namun, it seemed that everything good within the prince died with his concubine. He gave his newborn son to Shakir Bey, the younger brother of Med-jai captain Hamadi Bey. When he was small, Ardeth often asked his mother why Rameses did that. It was Altair's belief that Rameses was either unable to deal with the reminder of his beloved concubine, or he recognized what he was becoming, and felt unworthy to raise the son they created together.  
  
As a man, Ardeth recognized the truth in his mother's words, though he hadn't understood them as a child. He could almost hear himself asking, 'But Mother, why? Why did he not keep his son, and take care of him? If the baby was all he had left of the Lady Ardath, why did Rameses ask our ancestors to take care of him?' Altair was unable to provide her solemn, confused young son with the answer.  
  
But the adult Ardeth thought he understood now. Ever since he heard the story again as a man, shortly after the first rising of Imhotep, Ardeth felt a strange kinship for Rameses, another man who defied the gods for the woman he loved, though in a very different way. He believed that Rameses couldn't forgive himself for allowing Ardath to die, even though there was nothing he could have done to save her.  
  
Ardeth imagined loving a woman as deeply as Rameses loved his concubine, then watching her die, totally helpless. A prince of Egypt, in line to become the Pharaoh. . .and there was nothing he could do to save the woman he loved. It must have shattered his sanity. Ardeth was told about the events outside the pyramid of Ahm Shere, of Evy's death and resurrection. He tried to imagine how O'Connell reacted. And all he could hear was a single name. Rameses.  
  
But he said none of this to Evy and Celia. He merely told them that according to Med-jai records, Lady Ardath first met Rameses when she placed herself between a Med-jai child and harm. Her son was raised as a Med-jai, and among Ardeth's people, her name came to mean 'courage.' Evy said, 'Which is how an Egyptian chieftain has the name of a Hebrew slave.'  
  
Ardeth inclined his head, replying, 'A variation, yes. And I am not sure from whence Lady Ardath came. According to the records, she did have dark hair, but her eyes were dark green or hazel, and her skin was very fair. I think it very likely that she was from what is now Europe, and could not remember the name she was given at birth.' It was then that he saw Jonathan leaving the house, and Ardeth followed him.  
  
It wasn't out of suspicion, though Ardeth couldn't stop the mischievous imp demanding he scare the hell out of Jonathan. It was fun the first time he did it, after Hamunaptra sank into the sands of the Sahara. He couldn't resist doing it a second time, and he learned that Jonathan was following Jason Ferguson. Ardeth was informed early this morning of the meeting observed by his men the previous day. And, one of his men got close enough to hear the conversation. He asked the trio to keep a watch for the men who approached Jason Ferguson.  
  
There was one other thing troubling Ardeth, as he returned to the women. One of many things, actually, but this concerned Jason Ferguson. How did the men know to approach him about Hamunaptra? Hopefully, his men would learn the answer to that. Another thing to cause him concern was how Jonathan seemed so distant, as if he was no longer in Cairo with Ardeth and the others. What happened to him?  
  
The final thing worrying Ardeth was the very conversation with Celia and Evy, only a few minutes earlier. He knew Evy believed that Celia was the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, and certainly, from the stories told by the Med-jai, he could see many similarities between the two women. Both quiet women, underestimated as being weak and stupid by those who didn't know any better. Ardeth sighed, running through what he did know in his head. First and foremost, Evy was Nefertiri in that long ago life.  
  
O'Connell, whether he wanted to believe it or not, was also Med-jai in that lifetime. The question remaining was why Ardeth couldn't remember his own previous life? The logical theory said he was the reincarnation of Hamadi Bey, the Med-jai captain who lost his head (literally) for pronouncing the hom-dai on Imhotep, before Rameses had a chance to exert his own justice, as insane as that justice was by then.  
  
But it felt wrong. So, if he wasn't Hamadi, who was he? And why did he feel this strange dread creeping through him whenever he thought about that previous lifetime? He had been there. He could feel it. But every time he tried to relax enough to allow the visions or dreams to come. . .the memories. . .it was always the same. Blackness. Fear. 'You are not ready to see, child.' What did it mean?  
  
. . .  
  
His name was Terumun, 'loved by his father.' It was given to him when he was a small orphan child on the streets of Thebes. Not unlike his incarnation in this lifetime. The Med-jai took him in and raised him. They were his family, they were his fathers. He would have willingly sacrificed his very soul, to prevent the hom-dai from being cast. Terumun could see what would happen to the Med-jai, if such a thing came to pass.  
  
Not because he was a seer, or had access to a seer, but because he grew up with the young prince Rameses. There were few who knew him as well, or better, than Terumun. He watched Rameses struggle through loss after loss, until the only people allowed past his protective defenses were his little circle of friends. Terumun himself, who was assigned to protect Princess Nefertiri at public functions in the beginning, until he won her trust; Imhotep; and Nassor, a young soldier who saved Rameses' life in his very first battle, after the prince's Med-jai protector was cut down.  
  
Into that small, private circle came Lady Ardath. Terumun was surprised when his friend and prince fell in love with the concubine. Truly, she was exotic, but was she strong enough to stand up to the often- fiery temper of the prince? He didn't really regard the actions she took to protect one of the Med-jai children as proof of her strength or courage. However, at the time he didn't know, either, that Khaldun could have her beaten, for thwarting him. That put an entirely different spin on things.  
  
And, he was counseled by the older Med-jai. . .and their wives. . .that Lady Ardath was, indeed, strong enough for Rameses. What he wasn't to learn, until much later, was that the concubine was actually stronger. After Ardath was foully murdered by the same Khaldun who attempted to strike a high-spirited Med-jai child, the Rameses with whom Terumun grew up disappeared, and a raging demon took his place.  
  
Only days after his concubine's murder, he tortured Khaldun to death, for murdering Lady Ardath and bragging about it. He gave his newborn son to Shakir Bey, the younger brother of the current Med-jai captain, to raise. Hamadi Bey failed to protect Lady Ardath. . .it was not within Rameses' power to remove Hamadi as the Med-jai captain. That was under Seti's authority, and Seti decreed that Ardath's murder, tragic as it was, could not have been prevented by the Med-jai. Rameses was not mollified, and he hissed that perhaps Shakir could do a better job of protecting the babe than Hamadi did of protecting the mother.  
  
He started withdrawing, too, from all three of his friends. Terumun and Imhotep were both shut out, though Imhotep assured the worried young Med-jai that the prince just needed time alone. He was shocked by Khaldun's torture and murder, but not too shocked. Imhotep acknowledged that he would have killed anyone who harmed the woman he loved. But to boast of murdering a helpless woman, a girl still weak from childbirth? //For that,// Imhotep growled in fury, //Khaldun deserved no mercy.//  
  
Only Nassor could still get through to him. Nassor, of the ribald humor, and the only one of Rameses' friends who ever bothered to look past Ardath's quiet nature to the core of pure iron. Maybe that's why Rameses never truly shut him out. . .because Nassor saw the real Ardath, and treated her as a little sister. Something that didn't happen with Imhotep and Terumun until it was too late.  
  
But even with Nassor, the only thing truly keeping Rameses in balance was Seti himself. When Seti was murdered by Imhotep and Anck-su-namun, that balance would forever be lost. And Hamadi Bey made it worse. . .himself driven mad with rage and guilt, Hamadi pronounced the hom-dai on Imhotep, without the permission of Rameses. With that one rash act, Hamadi forfeited his own life and damned his people.  
  
He saw all this as he watched helplessly. Watched as his former friend was forced to endure the worst torture known to humanity. It would be the final blow to Rameses. His former friend betrayed him, by murdering his father, and Hamadi preempted the prince by taking matters into his own hands. Standing in the middle of Hamunaptra, Terumun could see the future with a clarity that took his breath away.  
  
He saw generations upon generations of his people, his compatriots, watching over Hamunaptra, burdened by a duty not of their making. And in his dying days, he did have a vision of the future. Of a young man burdened by thousands of years worth of duty, forced to face the Creature created by Hamadi Bey. He saw the future and it broke his heart, the last will he had to live.  
  
Terumun was right, and every time his reincarnation looked at Ardeth Bey, he saw the fulfillment of Terumun's worst fears. Not Ardeth himself, annoyingly honorable man that he was, but his life. Condemned to spend his entire life, watching over Hamunaptra, among other places, because his ancestor's pride got the better of him. Not that he, Rick O'Connell, had much room to talk. Evy read him the riot act for his actions after she was taken in London, only a few months earlier.  
  
She was so angry with him for his treatment of Ardeth. If Rick closed his eyes, he could see her in the middle of their destroyed house, hissing, 'That man has always been there for us, Richard! Always! He kept you from getting yourself killed in Cairo, when I went with Imhotep. And he saved us tonight. He did not deserve that!' Rick let her fury roll off his back, because she felt so helpless. Alex. . .  
  
Alex, who was now safe, largely because of Ardeth Bey. And Rick knew that Evy grew to love Ardeth as another brother, over the years. It was funny, when he thought about it, the difference between Evy's two brothers. . .one given to her at birth, by blood, and the other a chosen brother. A brother who meant as much to Rick as he did to Evy, though Rick found it hard to acknowledge that.  
  
Until Evy, he never really knew how to love. Evy and Alex. In the same way, Rameses never truly knew how to love, until he met his Lady Ardath. And again, Rick's mind circled back to Rameses. The former Legionnaire sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. It was like this, ever since he remembered his life as Terumun. Three weeks after Ahm Shere was sucked down, nearly taking Rick's family with it, he had his first dream about Terumun, and what Rick liked to call the Round Table or the Magic Circle. Nassor, Nefertiri, Rameses, Ardath, Terumun, Imhotep, and Anck-su-namun.  
  
The dreams haunted him. . .for more than one reason. Rameses seemed hauntingly familiar, but Rick couldn't understand why. There were other things which gave Rick no end of grief. He still couldn't figure out what was more jarring: the revelation that he and Imhotep were actually friends in that time or the knowledge that Ardeth was right. Again. If he wasn't such a good friend, Rick would have been tempted to hate Ardeth for being right.  
  
Despite his own skepticism, Rick quickly identified Nassor as his brother-in-law within his dreams. That shocked him to his core, when he realized Jonathan was *Nassor,* of all people. Nassor was one of the few people whom Rameses would listen to. . .also one of the few people, aside from Ardath, who could make him laugh. A fine, brave soldier with the ability to defuse most tense situations. And he was reborn as Jonathan. The mind boggled.  
  
He already knew about Imhotep and Anck-su-namun. He knew about Nefertiri. The only members of that Magic Circle who remained unidentified in their own time were Rameses and Ardath. Rick *knew* that Rameses meant his oath: if the gods took his beloved Ardath from him, he would find her in lifetimes to come. So, they were together. They had to be together, since Rameses and Ardath found each other before Terumun admitted his own love for Nefertiri. It was possible that they just hadn't found them.  
  
Yes, that was the best explanation. He and Evy simply hadn't met that last couple yet. By all rights, they should have, during the risings of Imhotep, since the high priest was the key. And wouldn't Anck-su-namun at least tried to find her forever friend in this lifetime? Rick wasn't sure why it was so important to find the new incarnations of his long-ago friend and his beloved concubine. But it was. He was sure of one thing. After some thought, he realized it was far more jarring that Imhotep was his friend. At least he was used to Ardeth being right!  
  
. . .  
  
//He raises a good point, child. . .why did Meela never attempt to find Celia?// Mathayus asked. Anck did not raise her eyes from the pool, which showed her the lives of the mortals. Nor did she answer him at first. She tried not to think of Meela at all. In part, because she wasn't sure if Meela was, indeed, responsible for leaving Imhotep to throw himself into the Underworld. Was it Meela, or Anck herself?  
  
She didn't know, and hated herself for that indecision. At last, however, she turned her mind away from that critical moment when her legs carried her away from Imhotep, from the man who endured the hom-dai because he loved her. And instead, she thought about the question just posed to her. Why did Meela never attempt to find Celia? Did Meela not have those memories of Ardath, as she did of Imhotep?  
  
//I do not know. I. . .I awakened in Meela's body, only days before he faced the Scorpion King. And things happened so fast,// she admitted finally, looking up to meet the eyes of her companion. Anck realized with a start that he *did* know. Mathayus waved his hand over the pool, changing the scene to show Hafez, that oily little man, and Lock-nah, telling Meela after she dreamed of Ardath, that Ardath's reincarnation was killed at Hamunaptra. Left to die by O'Connell and the woman who would become his wife.  
  
Anck remembered Meela's hatred of Evelyn O'Connell overpowering Anck's wish to face Nefertiri, one on one, and now she understood why. Meela had enough memories of Ardath as well as Imhotep to grieve the loss of her forever friend, again. Anck gasped out, //Why? Why would they lie like that? Celia is alive and well, she. . .why??//  
  
//Because, child, Hafez and Lock-nah needed Meela to focus on Imhotep. It is known that the only people you loved were Imhotep and Ardath. If you believed Ardath's reincarnation to be dead, killed by the same woman who returned Imhotep to his grave, then your rage and hatred would drive you even harder to resurrect Imhotep and to deal with the O'Connell family however they saw fit. They used your love for Ardath, Anck-su-namun,// Mathayus answered. Anck screamed with rage, raw hatred searing her.  
  
//Those. . .those bastards,// she ranted, //those evil, evil bastards!// She was never as good as Ardath, she knew that. They used that love for her friend to turn her into someone as evil as they were. They used love to destroy, and Anck. . .oh, it sickened her! She allowed them to do it! She allowed them to use her love for Ardath, in order to destroy someone who was trying to protect what was hers. A woman. . .  
  
Anck stopped. A woman not unlike Ardath. For the first time, Anck looked at Evelyn O'Connell, truly looked at her. No longer seeing the woman who accidentally raised Imhotep, then made him mortal. No longer seeing Nefertiri, but Evelyn O'Connell, the wife and mother. The woman who made a mistake and in doing so, unleashed a new apocalypse on the world, then sought to rectify her mistake. Just as Ardath would have done.  
  
Anck-su-namun slid slowly to her knees, forgetting that she no longer has a corporeal body. What had she become? When did she start losing herself? It was very easy for her to say she began losing herself when Ardath died, but that would have been an excuse. Ardath didn't make her poor choices. . .Anck did that. So when did Ardath's forever friend vanish, to be replaced by. . .by. . .by. . .this?  
  
Was it when she snuck into Hamunaptra without any of the men seeing her, and watched in grim satisfaction as Rameses tortured Khaldun to death? Delighting in each scream of pain, because it seemed to take away some of Anck's own anguish. After all, she served those goblets at Seti's request, she gave Ardath the poisoned wine meant for Rameses. If only she kept that goblet for herself! Ardath did not deserve to die, and that precious little baby did not deserve to grow up without her.  
  
Had she lost herself in those moments when she chose to kill Seti? She could have found another way, could have told him that she smeared the paint herself. Perhaps she wanted to be caught. Imhotep killed him as well, yes, but she made her own choices as well. 'My body is no longer his temple,' she told the Med-jai, just before taking her own life. She could have escaped another way, she and Imhotep.  
  
She and Imhotep. . .did they really need to rule the earth? All Anck wanted was the chance to love Imhotep, the chance they were constantly denied during their own lifetime. Why did she not warn Meela against Hafez and Lock-nah? That she was being used to find Imhotep, and raise him to fight the Scorpion King? Because like Anck, Meela was too blinded with rage when she learned of the death of her forever friend. . .again. And it seemed that the people responsible for Imhotep's downfall were also responsible for her death. But Meela never asked why Ardath's reincarnation would be in Hamunaptra. Or why the reincarnations of Nassor, Nefertiri and Terumun would *want* Ardath dead.  
  
Mathayus said softly, //That was not your fault. By the time you were brought back from the Underworld, uniting your soul with Meela's body, it was too late. You would have thought to ask those questions. Meela had no way of knowing which questions to ask, and a girl who was denied for her entire life finally had a way out. You made many bad choices, Anck-su- namun, and helped to cause great evil. But Meela's choices, up to that moment in Karnak, were not your choices. Just as Nefertiri's choices were not Evelyn's. And Ardath's were not Celia's.//  
  
//Ardath would never take over Celia's body. . .it would be a violation in her eyes,// Anck-su-namun answered dully, //the only time she would do such a thing was if Celia's life was in danger, and even then, Ardath would ask permission.// Anck-su-namun raised her eyes to Mathayus, asking, //Why is that? Ardath swore she would never violate someone as we were, and I had no such compunctions about allowing someone else to be hurt like that.//  
  
//You did not meet Ardath until you were ten years old, Anck. Those first ten years of your life were very different from hers,// Mathayus pointed out. Anck could hardly argue with that. Mathayus paused, then continued, //And as her namesake believes, Ardath did, indeed, come from what is now Europe. . .a child born along the constantly shifting borders of those countries.// Her namesake. . .the Med-jai now protecting Ardath's reincarnation.  
  
//You have wondered often, how a Med-jai came to have a variation of her name. But did you never consider that the elders respected her? That a woman who died, however accidentally, saving the life of her beloved would be respected for that alone, particularly a woman who made the lives of the Med-jai as easy as possible by respecting their attempts to do their job? Lady Ardath never attempted to flee from her own protectors. She always made sure they could see her and protect her,// Mathayus told Anck.  
  
That really never occurred to her. She always assumed the Med-jai treasured her friend because so many of them were friends with Rameses, and she made Rameses happy, or because she saved one of their children. It never occurred to her that they respected her, because she respected them. Anck regarded Celia again, totally nonplussed by this discovery. She, Anck- su-namun was always given to grand gestures and drama.  
  
But that was never Ardath's way of doing things. Anck said slowly, //Then it was not just Imhotep, who did not understand her. All this time, I believed the Med-jai honored her because she risked a beating to save the life of a child. But it went beyond that, did it not? I forgot that the loyalty of the Med-jai is not so easily bought. She had their respect and loyalty, because she treated them with respect and loyalty.//  
  
//Ahhhh, now you are learning, my dear child! Now you are learning! The Med-jai protected you, because it was their job. They protected her, because she allowed them to protect her, and because they wished to see no harm come to her. Something Rameses forgot. The Med-jai, as a group, also believed they failed a girl they loved and respected. I have wondered, since Ma'at took my soul back from Anubis, if that was part of Hamadi's decision to cast the hom-dai against your Imhotep,// Mathayus observed.  
  
Anck frowned, not understanding what that meant. Mathayus explained, //Consider this, Anck-su-namun. Hamadi Bey was the captain of the Med-jai at the time of Ardath's murder. In effect, he failed to protect her. He failed again, this time to protect Seti from his own stupidity. That is two failures. So, when your body was taken from its crypt by Imhotep and Hamadi realized what he planned to do. . .//  
  
//I remember Hamadi Bey. He was a proud man. He could not tolerate a third failure, so he stopped Imhotep from raising me, and assuaged his guilt over his failures by invoking the hom-dai,// Anck completed. Mathayus nodded. The late concubine shook her head in wonderment. Why did everything seem to keep returning to Ardath's murder? Why did it seem, more and more, that everything was connected to that?  
  
//Because, child, it is. No, do not ask me. I cannot tell you, for it is forbidden. Rather, you must see this for yourself. Only then will you understand,// Mathayus said, before Anck could even think about asking him to tell her why all was interconnected. Why everything seemed to come back to the murder of a simple concubine, who only wished for the love of her prince, and why the pieces were falling into place right now, instead of the first time Imhotep arose. There was a reason for it, but why?  
  
. . .  
  
Jason found his new partners at the bazaar without much difficulty. He said without preamble as he sat down, 'You said you know about Hamunaptra and that I could help you get safe passage through the desert. What did you mean by that?' He knew he was being blunt, but he was careful to keep his voice low. The leader of the three men, the one who approached him the day before, raised his eyebrows.  
  
But he said only, 'I spoke the truth. I know about Hamunaptra. I have been there. And you can assure us safe passage through the desert. Have you ever heard of the Med-jai, young American?' Med-jai. The two brothers who escorted them to the O'Connell home the previous day, the brothers who treated him with such contempt. The man smiled coolly and continued, 'I thought as much. The man who escorted you and carried your niece on his shoulders is none other than Ardeth Bey, chieftain of the Med- jai. To use a term in my country, he is their king.'  
  
Well, yes, that was what he was told the previous day, and Celia made that dumb remark about how there was something regal about the tall warrior. Regal, his ass! Trust his sister to have her wits addled by someone like Ardeth Bey! She was dumb enough to trust Carstairs, after all. The leader continued, 'You can assure us safe passage, with his safety.'  
  
Jason looked at the man in confusion, and the leader said impatiently, 'Are you stupid, boy? We will kidnap Ardeth Bey, and we need your sister to do it. She is under his protection, so he will put his own life on the line to do just that.' WHOA! Jason might have just finished insulting his sister's intelligence, never mind that Carstairs fooled him as well, but there was no way he was about to let this guy anywhere *near* Celia!  
  
'Let me make one thing clear here,' Jason said in a low, deadly voice, 'my sister has *nothing* to do with this. Understand? I will not use her, nor will I allow her to be used, in this situation, or any other. Got it? You leave Celia alone. You wanna take out Bey? Go right ahead, I don't have a problem with that. But my sister is off limits. Celia's had enough to deal with!'  
  
'Then we will use your niece instead, Mr. Ferguson. You fail to recognize something very important. I work for a very powerful man, a man who can either make you very rich, or very dead! It is your choice. Think very carefully, Mr. Ferguson. Your sister is thirty years old and rather resourceful, according to our contacts in Chicago. Quite adept at taking care of herself, which is more than I can say for you. Her daughter, on the other hand, is but four years of age. Who will survive longer in the hands of my associates, hmm?' the man sneered.  
  
He nailed Jason right where it hurt, where the real Jason Ferguson lived. In his heart of hearts, which knew that he was weak. That he depended on his sister far more than she depended on him, more than she ever would. The young man slumped back in his seat, staring at the man. He whispered, 'What do you want from me? What are you willing to give me, in exchange for my betrayal of my sister? What's my thirty pieces of silver?'  
  
'As I said, my employer is a very powerful man, with the capability to make your wildest dreams come true. If it will make you feel better, then by all means, come along. Make sure my rough associates do not mistreat your sister. As you say, she has been through enough. That cad, Leslie Carstairs, tricked her into thinking that they were married, all in the name of a bet. And did you not encourage her to accept his advances?' the man asked.  
  
Jason felt a chill spreading through his body. How was this possible? No one, except he and Celia, knew that! Jason thought Carstairs would be a good match for his sister. After all, when they met, she was twenty-four, without any prospects to speak of. And Celia was lonely, seeing everyone she knew getting married and having children. It wasn't until then that she acknowledged she was lonely, at least.  
  
The man continued, his voice dropping, 'You ask me what your thirty pieces of silver will be, for betraying your sister? You've already betrayed her, boy. You betrayed her time after time after time. What's one more time? Especially when you have the power to make sure she is not hurt worse than she could be. Think about it, Mr. Ferguson. Your sister has light skin and odd-colored eyes. You can protect her from the bandits.'  
  
//Play the hero,// an insidious voice whispered in his mind, //you can be her hero. Ride in and save the day. She'll look at you with the same admiration she now holds for that barbarian.// And that was how he saw Ardeth Bey. Never mind his perfect English, and equally perfect Greek. Never mind his demeanor toward Jason's sister and niece. Ardeth Bey was a barbarian to live in this country and in the desert. Just as his grandmother, who loved Celia so deeply, was a barbarian to live with the Indians.  
  
//Yesss. . .that's right. Celia is being led astray, Jason. She's taken care of you all her life. . .this is your chance to take care of her, to steer her back to the right path. This is your chance, Jason, your chance to be something,// the voice whispered. Jason closed his eyes, trying to ignore how much that voice sounded like his father. Somehow, the voice inside his head changed from his own, to his father's.  
  
How many times did he hear that, when Celia was at school, before he started school, during one of his father's drunken rages? //You can be something, boy, if you're willing to take the risk. By God, why did Cecelia have to be born a girl, when she's the one willing to take the risk? Isn't it bad enough that my mother-in-law had more guts than most men, why does my daughter have to be the adventurous one in the family?//  
  
He was never good enough for his father. . .for his mother. Neither of them were. Celia protected him for so long. And this damn barbarian was seducing her, finishing what Carstairs began six years earlier. If Ardeth Bey was out of the picture, then his sister would be safe. He failed to protect her from Carstairs. . .but he could still protect her from Ardeth Bey, before that bastard had a chance to corrupt her.  
  
If kidnapping her, or rather, helping these men to pretend to kidnap her, was the way to save her, to get Bey out of the picture, then it was a small price to pay. He opened his eyes, to find the man still staring at him intently. It never registered with Jason that the man's two associates never said a word throughout the entire conversation. It never occurred to him that they just stared at him blankly, as if they had no intelligence.  
  
He looked at his new associate and said, 'All right. I will lead Celia to you. But she is not to be hurt in any way. I'm trying to protect her, not cause her more pain. You tell me when and where, and I'll find a way to separate Celia from Miranda. My niece is not to be involved in this at all. As you say, she's four; and do you really want to be taking care of a four year old during a journey?'  
  
'Not in the least. . .and we agree to your conditions. In six days, suggest a return to the bazaar. On the seventh day, you will return here. Make sure that your niece remains with the O'Connell family, while you lead your sister away with the excuse that you want to show her something, a gift for your niece. The only harm your sister will suffer is the chloroform, but we will make sure it is only enough to render her unconscious,' the man said. Jason listened intently.  
  
The man paused, then continued, "We will have men watching Bey. If he happens to notice something awry, our men have orders to intercept him and knock him unconscious. If that happens, we can abduct him at the same time, and there will be no further need for your sister."  
  
In that case, maybe Jason should make sure Bey did keep an eye on Celia. If they could abduct him at the same time, there was no need for Celia. Jason could keep his sister safe that way. And he would be rid of that damn meddling barbarian at the same time. Jason had no idea he was playing right into the hands of his new associate, no idea how adroitly he was being manipulated and exploited.  
  
The man continued, "There is one other thing you must do. Under NO circumstances is Jonathan Carnahan to join you on that outing." Jason frowned. Carnahan? From what he heard, he was a buffoon, the least of their worries. But the man said, 'Appearances are deceiving, boy. Carnahan is dangerous in a way the chieftain is not. He has caused problems for my employer in the past. We do not wish history to repeat itself. Partners?'  
  
Jason reached across the table to shake the other man's hand, answering firmly, 'Partners.' He rose to his feet, realizing he had a lot of work to do. Again, it didn't even register that he still didn't know the name of his new associates. It didn't seem important. Nor did he notice, for the second time that day, that he was being followed. This time, he was followed by a tall man in flowing black robes and rage contorting his tattooed face. 


	6. Watch Out for that Knee!

Part Five  
  
NefertiriOC: If anything happens to Miranda because of Jason, there will be a long line of people waiting to kick his hindquarters. Beni was, indeed, eaten by scarabs, but it's like Imhotep says, 'death is only the beginning.' As for Meela/Anck. . .I couldn't tell if those were scarabs or scorpions, but it seems more likely that they were scorpions.  
  
As for Anatol. . .well, I'll see what I can do about getting a 'cast' list together, so you can see who I had in mind. I actually met the actor who inspired Anatol, and he's very nice as well as being very attractive. My best friend and I shared an elevator with him in Vancouver once.  
  
Deana: Actually, it's rather funny, because originally, I thought 'Ardath' was a Greek name. It's not, of cousre, it's Hebrew. But I really liked the idea of Ardeth being Greek, because of the ancient ties between Greece and Egypt, so I did some fancy footwork, writing style. And this, by the way, was before I even knew about Presidio Med.  
  
And I thought you'd like those scenes with Miranda!  
  
It was a popular misconception that any member of the Med-jai would do anything for the O'Connells, simply because they were friends of the Med- jai chieftain. While Hanif would do anything for Ardeth Bey, the O'Connells were another matter entirely. He didn't like the O'Connells. He didn't like Evelyn O'Connell for her inability to respect the legends of his people, and he didn't like Rick O'Connell for his attitude that Ardeth Bey was his to command.  
  
However, he had no hesitation about returning to the O'Connell home in Cairo, to report back to Ardeth about the meeting in the bazaar. It was time they started contributing, rather than demanding Ardeth's help all the time. The twenty-two year old never mentioned his contempt for the O'Connell family to his leader. He was Med-jai. He followed his orders. And in this case, his feelings were immaterial, because Jason Ferguson was a more potent threat.  
  
The young Med-jai met up with his two comrades, quietly outlining what he heard, and had the satisfaction of seeing rage bloom in the eyes of both men. Garai, the oldest of the men, said as they approached the front door, 'This will not be allowed to take place. They will not permitted to harm Ardeth or the woman, much less the child. What manner of man threatens a helpless little one?'  
  
'He who shall not be named, among others. . .including that demon who worshipped him,' Hanif answered promptly. He didn't like the O'Connells. That didn't mean he was pleased when their small son was abducted by Hafez and Lock-nah. His own brother was taken by bandits in the same raid which led to the rape of Acacia Bey. His mother never recovered from the loss of her son, and Hanif never forgot his mother's grief. There was no way he would wish that on anyone. Nor would he wish to be in the hands of that demon, Lock-nah, who enjoyed causing pain.  
  
'Aywa, that's true. For now, we must warn Ardeth,' the third member of the group, Kaphiri, replied. The trio made their way through the gate, seeing Ardeth in the backyard with his younger brother and the others. He was starting to sit down beside the young American woman again, the one whose brother was proving to be so troublesome, but saw them and leaned over to say something to her.  
  
She smiled up at him, and Hanif blinked. Up until now, he viewed the American woman as a burden, like the O'Connells. The Med-jai had many such burdens, as part of their sacred duty, and this one. . .like the O'Connells. . .would doubtless result in injury to Ardeth. But his mother always told him that much could be learned about a woman from her smile. This woman had a very warm, very genuine smile that lit up her entire face.  
  
A woman's smile, and a woman's eyes. Perhaps the American wouldn't be such a waste after all, if she was as honest and true as her smile implied. She might still cause Ardeth to be injured, but Hanif knew his chieftain well enough to realize Ardeth would not flinch away from protecting her for that reason. After all, they were Med-jai, and that was part of their purpose. Injuries happened. Death happened.  
  
Hanif saw death, at Ahm Shere. He saw the fear in the eyes of his chieftain as Ardeth turned to face them. The second wave of Anubis Warriors was just sighted, and Hanif was afraid himself. Deathly afraid. Afraid of the horror which was to come, afraid for his friends, afraid for his chieftain. . .afraid that he would disgrace himself. He saw an answering fear in Ardeth's eyes, fear which was quickly replaced with determination.  
  
Ardeth turned back around and called out defiantly in Arabic, 'Until death!' The chant was quickly taken up, and Hanif realized in that moment, that he would follow Ardeth Bey anywhere. Do whatever was asked of him. This man, who was just a man, was just as frightened as Hanif himself was, and yet refused to give up. Such a man was worth following to the very Underworld if need be.  
  
Garai gasped, and Hanif looked at him in astonishment. The older man, one of the oldest warriors, was staring at the American woman in awe. Garai whispered, 'Lady Ardath? Have the gods truly seen fit to return you to us?' Lady Ardath? What was Garai talking about? Hanif looked from the American to the man, and Garai continued, growing excited, 'Do you not see? The American woman! She is Lady Ardath reborn!'  
  
Lady Ardath? The concubine around whom so many legends were woven? Surely not! After all, Celia Ferguson was American, and Lady Ardath was. . .something else. Garai continued impatiently, as if hearing Hanif's doubts, 'It is she! I served her. I was the Med-jai assigned to protect her, and I was the Med-jai who failed her. The Med-jai she forgave, even as she lay dying in the arms of the prince.'  
  
Ardeth was listening to something the American woman was saying and remained standing. Hanif wondered if it was as interesting this conversation. He doubted it. Garai continued, his voice low and hushed, 'Oh, the stories I could tell you about her! The ones you never heard while you were growing up. The stories about her temper never became part of the Med-jai legend. But she had a temper to rival that of Rameses himself, and if she was angry enough, her tongue could be just as sharp as Acacia's. I remember one time, she threw a goblet at Prince Rameses when he made her angry. . .threw it hard enough to knock him unconscious.'  
  
Garai's voice trembled a little with laughter, as he added, 'We kept the goblets away from her for a while. Rameses learned not to ignore her, or she would throw something else to get his attention. She was. . .could be. . .rather fiery. And she was mischievous. No one was safe from her practical jokes, not even He Who Shall Not Be Named. Of course, that fool always thought that it was his whore who thought it up, because my Lady had not the intelligence to think of such a prank.' Now his voice was laced with bitterness.  
  
Hanif was on the verge of asking about just that. . .the bitterness in his voice, as well as how he knew that Lady Ardath did, indeed, think up the pranks, but it was then that Ardeth approached them. He looked concerned, and Hanif knew they were about to add to that. Garai said, immediately dropping the subject, 'My chieftain. . .Hanif overheard a most disturbing conversation at the bazaar.' That was Hanif's cue.  
  
. . .  
  
Garai listened only with half his attention as Hanif outlined what they heard in the bazaar to Ardeth. Ardeth, who bore the name of Garai's ward. The old Med-jai was gifted with his memories shortly after his rites of manhood, and knew he was meant to do something in his lifetime to atone for his previous failure. He had all of his memories. He knew who Rick O'Connell was. He knew who Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell was, and her brother.  
  
Just as he knew whom Ardeth Bey was, and held no grudge against him for those long-ago sins. Like many in their tribe, Garai knew Ardeth his entire life. He was a young warrior when Ardeth was born, watched the shy, solemn boy grow into a quiet, capable warrior, then into a lethal and fierce chieftain. He loved the young man. Ardeth would make mistakes of his own. He did not need to carry on his shoulders the mistakes of the past.  
  
Garai knew this was the reason Ardeth did not yet remember his life as Rameses, son of Seti and brother of Nefertiri. Garai forgave Rameses long ago for everything that transpired between the Med-jai and the prince after the murder of Lady Ardath. He forgave Rameses, because he could not forgive himself.  
  
Through the years, Garai listened with a smile to the tales told of his young ward, the ones emphasizing her gentleness and her courage. And she was a gentle, courageous woman. But there was more to her than that. As he told Hanif, she had the devil's own temper, one to match Rameses if someone in the palace was foolish enough to push her that far. Although, few tried it after she hit Rameses with the goblet. For a woman, she had devastating aim.  
  
And her practical jokes were almost as legendary among the Med-jai as her temper. Garai was present when Ardath decided upon a fitting prank for He Who Shall Not Be Named, and almost fell over laughing when she pulled it off. He was so proud of her. . .not just for executing the prank, but also for not clouting the priest when that one gave Anck-su-namun all the credit. Garai knew the truth, however, as did Rameses.  
  
But for now, Garai brought himself back to the present as Hanif concluded his narrative. He would be needed to protect his chieftain, and the reincarnation of Ardath. His chieftain looked thoughtful for several moments, then a familiar light appeared in his dark eyes. Ardeth smiled faintly, saying softly, 'You must not tell the O'Connells, or Celia Ferguson. Nor must you confront Jason Ferguson with what you know. We will allow him to think we do not know.'  
  
Garai nodded his acknowledgment and approval. Ardeth continued, still in that low voice, 'Garai, I want you looking after Miranda Ferguson. There is a good possibility these men, whoever they are, will attempt to abduct her anyhow.' Garai was on the verge of protesting until he remembered that Miranda was the daughter of Ardath's reincarnation. He nodded instead, and Ardeth continued, 'And I will look after Celia Ferguson myself.'  
  
'What of me, Ardeth?' Kaphiri asked. The chieftain looked at him thoughtfully, then his smile broadened ever so slightly. Garai remembered that smile from previous lifetimes. Rameses always wore that smile when he was about to do something he knew Seti would frown upon, but something which Rameses, and the Med-jai, knew to be necessary. In this lifetime, it usually meant Ardeth was about to do something very sneaky.  
  
'You, my friend, will have the most important mission of all. Should I fail to protect Celia Ferguson, you will follow them into the desert. When you do, leave a trail so that we might follow you. Jonathan Carnahan will be watching out for me,' Ardeth answered at last. Hanif and Kaphiri both stared at him in shock, but Garai simply smiled, knowing something the two younger Med-jai did not. Firstly, Jonathan saved the life of their chieftain in the jungle of Ahm Shere. Secondly, Jonathan was none other than Nassor reborn. Whether Jonathan remembered his past life or not, he would allow no harm to come to Ardeth.  
  
And he told his younger compatriots this, saying quietly, 'You forget, young ones. It was Jonathan Carnahan who saved the life of our chieftain, after he defeated Lock-nah in combat. He will not let Ardeth down.' //Because if he does, and those bastards get their hands on Ardeth, I'll kill him myself!// Garai added, looking at Ardeth, 'But that will mean we must tell him of what we know. Will he not tell his sister and brother-in-law what he knows?' Ardeth shook his head, his mind zipping ahead to each problem as he thought of them.  
  
'La,' came the response, "not if we do not tell him until that morning. Hanif, I want you to explain to Celia Ferguson, after this is over, what you heard. This will not be the last attempt, and I wish her to be on her guard. I will be teaching her what I can, but six days is not enough time for her to know what she must.' Ardeth added something rather uncomplimentary in ancient Egyptian under his breath about Jason Ferguson, and Garai could only agree with him. He would have agreed, even if Celia was not the reincarnation of Ardath.  
  
'You fear she will not believe her younger brother capable of such perfidy?' Hanif asked. Ardeth looked up, shaking his head, but unlike Hanif, Garai knew what his chieftain meant. Hanif was thinking that Ardeth did, indeed, fear such a thing. But Garai realized that Ardeth knew what he did. Celia would believe them, and it saddened their chieftain, especially in light of the strong bond between Ardeth and his younger siblings.  
  
However, Ardeth replied, 'That is one of my concerns. The best thing would be to trick the abductors into admitting that Jason Ferguson helped them, but I am not sure how that is possible. Hanif, tell me again about the two men who never spoke?' Now what was Ardeth thinking? This was not something upon which Rameses would have focused. Garai shook his head at himself. He was expecting Ardeth to react like Rameses. And while Ardeth carried the prince's spirit, he was not Rameses.  
  
Nor should Garai expect him to react as Rameses would. Ardeth was, indeed, capable of great cruelty. They were a desert people, entrusted with the stewardship of Hamunaptra, and to ensure that Seti's priest did not rise again. It was sometimes necessary to kill people, and it was not something Ardeth enjoyed. It was one reason Garai respected him so much. He did not revel in the taking of lives. It was his duty, and he carried it out.  
  
But he was much more stable than Rameses, much stronger, and much more capable. Ardeth dealt with as much sorrow as Rameses, though admittedly with more support at times. There was the loss of his father when he was only thirteen, as well as the murder of his brother, the rape of his sister, and everything that went with those two events when he was seventeen. Taking command of the Med-jai after the death of Andreas, and submerging his own grief to take care of his family and his people.  
  
'Garai!' The older Med-jai's head snapped up, and he found Ardeth frowning at him in concern. He realized that Ardeth tried for several seconds to get his attention, and the older warrior and nodded to confirm he was paying attention now. Ardeth continued, still looking concerned, 'Garai, this disturbs me. Tomorrow, I wish you to speak with our man at the Cairo Museum and start research into this thing that Hanif describes. It sounds almost like the mind control which the Creature used during his first rising.'  
  
Now that Garai thought about it, Ardeth had a point. Kaphiri asked, 'Do you think Seti's priest is the employer which that man spoke of, my chieftain? He does, after all, have that power which was described to Jason Ferguson.' Ardeth shook his head, frowning thoughtfully, and this time, Garai made no attempt to ascertain what his leader was thinking. He did, however, curse Jason Ferguson for ruining Ardeth's holiday.  
  
'I do not believe that to be the case,' came the slow reply, 'according to O'Connell and Evelyn, who were closest, the Creature threw himself into the Underworld after Anck-su-namun fled from him. It is possible, of course. Anything is possible. However, my instincts tell me that this is someone different. Possibly someone who is even more dangerous.' Ardeth started to say something else, then shook his head, looking troubled.  
  
Garai put his hand on his chieftain's shoulder, saying softly, 'Then we will find out from whence this new threat comes, Ardeth. You have my word.' Ardeth smiled and Garai continued, 'I shall leave for the Museum immediately. Ardeth, take the advice of an old friend, who has known you since you were in swaddling clothes.' //And long before.// Ardeth raised his eyebrows questioningly and Garai continued, 'Continue with your holiday. You have more than earned it, my chieftain.'  
  
This time, Ardeth smiled. Even better, he laughed, and replied, 'I shall endeavor to do so, my friend.' Garai smiled back. That was all he asked for. He knew, just as well as all the Med-jai, that it was all he *could* ask for from their solemn chieftain. There were times when Garai wondered what would have happened, had Andreas lived. Those questions ended after a nightmare regarding the first time the priest arose. While Garai didn't doubt the right man was leading the Med-jai, the nightmare showed him just how bad things could have been, if Ardeth wasn't leading them at the time. He questioned the past no more.  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth returned to the house, still thinking about what his men told him. He would never admit this to his men, but he actually felt sorry for Jason Ferguson. In a twisted sort of way, Jason really thought he was protecting his sister and his niece. He didn't understand the kind of men he was dealing with. Ardeth, however, did. He also knew that if the men succeeded in abducting Celia, then her life was forfeit.  
  
Which was why he assigned Kaphiri to follow the men, if they succeeded at the bazaar. He was the last line of defense. There was nothing Ardeth could do about the plans made by the men in the bazaar. But he could disrupt them. He could make their lives bloody difficult, and that was one thing Ardeth Bey would do with pleasure. He had little use for men who would use others in such a way.  
  
'Everything all right?' Rick O'Connell asked and Ardeth nodded every so slightly. He knew O'Connell would be furious with him, for not telling him everything. But the other man had a tendency to shoot first, ask questions later. In order to find out exactly what was going on, Ardeth would allow those men to live, at least for now.  
  
'We may have some trouble looming,' Ardeth admitted, 'but you and your family are not the targets.' O'Connell looked at him quickly, then his pale eyes slid to Celia, happily talking with Evy, while Anatol continued to practice with Miranda. O'Connell looked back at Ardeth, and the Med-jai nodded. The American swore under his breath, his hand automatically settling on his ever-present pistol.  
  
'Damn. . .her brother, I would bet?' O'Connell asked. Again, Ardeth nodded, silently figuring out how much it would be safe to tell O'Connell. The other man asked next, 'And you think something else is going on, so you won't tell me exactly what kind of danger Celia is, so I don't kill anyone. Do I have the right of it?' Now Ardeth did look at his friend in astonishment. He hadn't expected O'Connell to understand.  
  
'Yes. A trap is being laid for us, my friend. I plan on springing that trap, and using it to find out exactly what kind of danger faces us all,' Ardeth answered. He didn't trust his old friend not to kill Jason Ferguson, when he found out exactly what the young man was up to. If it wasn't necessary to keep the boy alive, Ardeth would have probably killed him personally. But the more information O'Connell himself had, the better he could protect his family.  
  
'Aww shit. . .another one?' O'Connell groaned and Ardeth stiffened. Did O'Connell think he *enjoyed* this? But it was then that O'Connell surprised him, and Ardeth didn't think that was possible. The other man reached over, settling his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, and said, 'I'm sorry, that was un-called for. I learned my lesson the last time. I can't run away anymore, no matter how much I might want to. Just. . .let me know when the time comes, okay?'  
  
'I would die myself before I allowed any harm to come to Evelyn or Alex,' Ardeth answered and O'Connell nodded. Ardeth supposed his friend knew that. . .but there were times when he felt it needed to be said. The chieftain nodded toward Evy and Celia, still talking away, and asked, 'What sorts of deviltry are those two planning?' O'Connell looked at his wife and their houseguest, smiling unexpectedly.  
  
'I don't know, but with those two. . .after only a day here, I'm already thinking that underestimating my fellow expatriate might be a really bad idea,' O'Connell answered. Ardeth merely arched a brow. He was just now figuring this out? His companion added, rolling his eyes, 'All right, so I'm a little slow on the uptake. . .I should have realized that last night.' Better. Much better.  
  
There was a long silence, then O'Connell asked slowly, 'You like her, don't you? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. She's a nice girl. . .a bit on the quiet side. Right up until the time you get on her bad side.' O'Connell frowned, looked at Ardeth, then added, 'Kinda like someone else I know.' Ardeth leaned back against the wall of his friend's home and smiled at him mischievously.  
  
But O'Connell wasn't finished. His blue eyes narrowed, 'Come to think of it. . .you never did answer my question last night. I'm starting to realize that there's a lot you haven't told us about you.' Ardeth looked at the other man with some confusion.  
  
Last night. Oh yes, O'Connell asking him who he was and what he had done with Ardeth. The chieftain replied, 'I told you what was necessary for us to defeat the Creature and the Scorpion King. You were never interested in anything else I had to say.' That didn't quite come out the way Ardeth intended. . .he simply meant that Rick O'Connell never asked about Ardeth's life. But the American flinched anyhow.  
  
Ardeth started to speak, but O'Connell answered, 'I suppose I deserved that. You know Evy really raked me over the coals for. . .what happened in London. She's real protective of you, you know.' Ardeth noticed. In some ways, she reminded him of his own sisters in that respect. If he closed his eyes, Ardeth could still see the determination and fury in Evelyn's eyes as she blasted the mummy warrior with her husband's shotgun.  
  
'I only meant that you simply never asked. I would have told you,' Ardeth replied, not knowing what else to say. O'Connell just smiled and nodded. Ardeth continued, 'You know my younger brother Anatol. And that it was he who pulled me from the rubble, along with aid from one of the elders. I have two sisters, Acacia and Aleta. They are both younger than I am. My father insisted that I receive the same training as my older brother Andreas. Just in case.'  
  
'How old were you when your father died?' O'Connell asked softly. Ardeth didn't answer at first, though memories flashed through his eyes. He was told many times, over the years, that he looked even more like his father, Suleiman, than his older brother did. Altair Bey made sure he knew that. Every time he smiled, every time his hair fell into his eyes during a practice sparring, he brought forth a new memory of his father for his mother.  
  
Ardeth spent little time even considering his own reflection. He knew he was pleasing to the eyes of the maidens in the tribes. And he felt Evelyn's eyes on him once or twice. But his appearance simply was of no importance to him. He had too many other things that worried him, including another rising of the Creature. He truly didn't know how that would be possible, when the priest threw himself into the Underworld. But Ardeth Bey didn't make the same mistake twice. It was bad enough that the Creature rose twice already. No more.  
  
'I was thirteen years of age when he died. I never realized this before, O'Connell, but my brother was only a year older than I was, when he took command of the Med-jai. He was eighteen when our father died, and I was seventeen when Andreas died. The elders were not happy about it, as I went through my rites of manhood only a year earlier. But my brother told all, before we tracked Lock-nah, that I would succeed him, if he died,' Ardeth replied.  
  
'You were just a kid,' O'Connell said softly. There was another long silence, then he asked next, 'Lock-nah. . .he killed your brother, then?' Ardeth nodded, and his friend continued, 'Evy told me that there was some sort of history between the two of you. She could hear the hatred in his voice, and in yours. She could see fear in his eyes, too, in the eyes of all of his men when they saw you.'  
  
'He killed my brother and raped my sister,' Ardeth answered flatly. Even after all these years, the memory still caused pain in his chest. He continued, 'Among my people, there is not the foolishness that a woman deserves to be raped, or asks for it.' Ardeth spat out the words, feeling sick that they would even pass his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to wipe away the poison and accompanying nausea, before continuing, 'When Andreas and I found Acacia, we made sure our mother and other sister could stay with her, before we went after Lock-nah.' He chose not to tell O'Connell that Anatol was with them, as well.  
  
'You look at Celia, and see the way she interacts with her brother. It brings back memories,' O'Connell said quietly and Ardeth nodded. He remembered his sister weeping in his arms, after Andreas was murdered, and the strict orders he gave the Med-jai from his bed regarding Lock-nah. It was over now. Lock-nah was dead. Andreas and Acacia were avenged. But, here was another brother and sister, reminding Ardeth of the violation done to his sister.  
  
'Yes,' he replied, then frowned when he saw Celia push herself to her feet. She leaned down and said something to Evy, looking over by her daughter, and the young Englishwoman nodded her agreement. Celia smiled, which warmed her face, then headed into the house. Ardeth said, 'There is something I wish to discuss with your houseguest. I will return.' O'Connell nodded, and Ardeth followed Celia inside, warring with himself over what he would say to her.  
  
. . .  
  
So Evy thought that she was Lady Ardath, the young foreign concubine in Celia's dreams. She believed that was the case, especially since Meela Nais, Anck's reincarnation, died recently. And with that piece of news, Celia felt she might be right. When she learned of Meela's death, Celia felt loss. It made no sense, because she never even met the woman.  
  
Celia excused herself, needing to use the privy and to think about what Evy told her in the last few minutes. She had so much to consider. Evy knew her own identity in the past. . .she was Nefertiri, and if Evy was correct about Celia's previous identity, then it could be said that they were sisters-in-law, after a fashion. She remembered Rameses mentioning Nefertiri in her dream, but she didn't know anything about a bond between Nefertiri and Ardath.  
  
Only about the bonds between Ardath and Rameses, as well as Ardath and Anck. While she was denied the chance to see his face, his voice was hauntingly familiar. And he loved Ardath, just as Anck had. Celia had no way of knowing, of course, that Meela was utterly devastated by the false news of Celia's own death at Hamunaptra. She didn't know that Meela's one comfort through the years were her nightly dreams of Anck's forever friend. She didn't know that Meela's fury ignited when she was told that Celia was left to die in Hamunaptra, after Imhotep was made mortal once more.  
  
No, Celia only knew that she felt a curious loss deep within her heart, the same sort of loss she felt when she awoke days after Miranda's birth, to learn that her mother was dead. She died when she ran into the street, trying desperately to get help for Celia and Miranda, the latter struggling to be born. In the end, it seemed as if her mother truly did love her, if she was so distraught, she didn't even notice that she was rushing into the path of a car.  
  
Celia found the privy easily and took care of her business, thinking about her conversations with Evy during the last few hours, while Anatol taught her very determined daughter what she would need to know. It started out as a distraction, as Celia tensed each time Miranda fell on her backside. She couldn't help herself, but she also knew that Miranda begged the young Med-jai for the lessons.  
  
Evy saw this, and understood. She began to question Celia about other dreams. For example, the previous night, after Celia went back to bed. The only dreams Celia had were of her parents and her grandmother. Her father behaving as he always did. . .her mother and grandmother mouthing something to her, trying desperately to make her understand something which she couldn't.  
  
Thoughts of her mother, as well as her mother's death, were always accompanied by memories of Leslie Carstairs, and remembering how she learned of his deception. She was part of a bet. She was used, and once Carstairs got what he wanted, he threw her and their daughter away. Her psuedo-husband wanted to make sure she understood that he was finished with them both, and sent two of his goons to chase her through the streets of Chicago.  
  
Celia held no illusions about what they would do to her if they caught her, and so she ran with everything she had. She ran to protect herself and she ran to protect her unborn child. She was still thinking about that night. . .about hearing those men behind her, their footfall alerting her that they were still there. The house was dark upstairs, for there were no windows except in the bedrooms, not in the hall. . .dark, just as it was that night.  
  
She shuddered, hearing the floorboards creaking behind her. She tried to remember if the house was locked. And all rational thought disappeared from Celia's mind as a hand landed solidly on her shoulder. Screaming, the young woman spun around to drive her knee into her attacker's groin, a move she learned several years earlier after Miranda was born when someone startled her. It was more a move of instinct than learning, but it worked.  
  
Except, it wasn't an attacker. It was Ardeth Bey, who crumpled to the ground with an almost silent groan. He was curled into a little ball, and Celia felt her face turn bright red. She dropped to her knees beside him, putting her hand on his shoulder, and gasped out, 'Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, you startled me, I didn't mean to hurt you!' All right, so that was something of an untruth. She meant to hurt him. . .but not Ardeth.  
  
'Good Lord, girl, what on earth did you do to him?' Jonathan Carnahan blurted out as Celia carefully helped Ardeth to sit up. The tone of the Englishman almost had her back-pedaling, but Ardeth's grip on her hand made that bloody well impossible.  
  
She was too ashamed to answer, and Ardeth did that for her. He gave a moan of pain, then rasped out, 'Not her fault. Startled her.' He slumped back against her, and Celia would have whimpered in sheer horror, if she was even capable of that. As it was, she would be lucky if she could make her vocal cords work. She hadn't thought at all. . .reacted purely by instinct when she was lost in a distant memory.  
  
But the memory was so vivid, even after all these years. The terror swamped her again, and even though her mind knew she was in Egypt in 1933, her instincts remained in 1928 Chicago. Without realizing what she was doing, she began to knead Ardeth's shoulder through his tunic. He settled against her, his body relaxing ever so slightly. If she was capable of rational thought at that point, she would have been horrified by her own lapse of decorum. She hadn't been in such proximity to a man since Carstairs.  
  
But she wasn't really thinking about decorum, or how she should really move away from Ardeth, even though she no longer had a reputation to worry about. Her mind was on alleviating the pain she caused to the man who made her daughter feel safe. Her own brother frightened Miranda. . .this man made her little girl feel safe, and she hurt him. Celia's guilt was stronger than any lingering veneer of respectability.  
  
'I am. . .so. . .sorry,' she breathed to the man now reclining against her. She didn't know what else to say. Jonathan was crouched in front of Ardeth, his bright blue eyes focused on the fallen Med-jai. He looked. . .worried. True enough, Celia felt guilty for nailing the poor man the way she did, but she seriously doubted that she could cause him any permanent damage. She wasn't that strong, after all. . .not even when she was scared.  
  
'It was not your fault. . .it was mine. I should have announced my presence. Very foolish of me,' Ardeth answered, his voice now sounding stronger. Still, Celia's fingers continued to knead his shoulder through his tunic. It was a purely reflexive gesture, nothing important. She wasn't easing his pain, wasn't doing anything important. But each time her hand stopped its motion, and started to release her grip on Ardeth, his hand stayed hers.  
  
'Very foolish, Ardeth old boy, you of all people should know better,' Jonathan replied, sounding a bit more cheerful, 'but so long as you don't intend on sharing your breakfast with us, the way you did after the bus ride.' Sharing. . .oh. Celia felt herself turn bright red. She didn't have to see Ardeth's face, either, to realize that the Med-jai was glaring at Jonathan Carnahan for all he was worth. Jonathan added hastily, 'Right, then. I'll get Rick.'  
  
And with that, he was on his feet and down the stairs. Again, Celia whispered, 'I'm so sorry. I got lost in some memories.' She stopped, swallowing hard. Ardeth tilted his head back, ever so slightly, until his dark eyes met her own. He whispered something in a language she didn't understand, but she didn't need to. He was asking her to tell him. In a halting voice, she told him about her confrontation with Carstairs, and fleeing from his goons through the Chicago streets. She was three months pregnant, afraid for her life and the life of her child. She knew those men had no compunction about hurting a woman, not even a pregnant woman.  
  
She concluded, 'I almost collapsed into Jason's arms when I got home. He. . .he was so angry with Carstairs. He kept raving, about what he would do to him, if anything happened to me or the baby.' She paused. By this time, Ardeth was sufficiently recovered to shift ever so slightly. After a moment, Celia continued, 'Both Miranda and I were fine. But there was another attempt to kill us. . .this time, by Leslie himself. And for that, Jason killed him.'  
  
She looked into Ardeth's dark eyes, saying softly, 'I know you and Rick wonder about my relationship with Jason. It's not an easy one, and I have sworn that if he endangers Miranda, I'll cut him out of my life. But. . .he does love me.' She had only to see Jason's face, contorted with rage, as he shot Leslie Carstairs, to remember that. But sometimes, it *was* very hard to remember, even when she thought about that day.  
  
She didn't understand the sudden pain in Ardeth's eyes as he placed his hand over her own, saying softly, 'Know this, Celia Ferguson. Yesterday, you came under my protection. No one will ever be permitted to harm you again.' Celia started to say something, though she had no idea what she was about to say, but nothing came out. Ardeth repeated, 'No one will ever hurt you again, Celia. I give you my word.' Staring into the dark eyes of the Med-jai chieftain, Celia understood the appeal he had for her daughter. Because for the first time since her grandmother died, Celia felt safe.  
  
. . .  
  
Mathayus winced at the peal of laughter echoing through the chamber as Ardeth Bey crumpled to the ground, then winced again in sympathy. Like Anck, he no longer had a corporeal body, but that didn't stop him from covering the area where his privates would have been protectively. He glared down at Anck, who was on the floor, laughing hysterically. At least, the image of her was. . .like Mathayus himself, she tended to forget that she no longer had a body.  
  
//It. . .is. . .not. . .funny!// he growled at the young woman. Anck continued laughing hysterically, and around her helpless giggles, Mathayus could just make out, 'mighty Med-jai, ha!' Mathayus glared at his companion. She would think it was funny, though. That was one of the first moves Anck taught Ardath when they became friends, a way to defend herself. Mathayus guessed it was a move older than time itself.  
  
He wondered, briefly, how it began. Did some woman in the First Times discover it by accident when a man tried to take from her what she would not give willingly? Did she flail around until her knee happened to connect with that all-too-sensitive organ? And then she passed that information onto other women? Or was it something else, perhaps something instinctive?  
  
Mathayus didn't know. And he was distracted as Anck finally calmed down, still snickering, //The mighty Med-jai, brought low by a woman. Oh, if only Imhotep could see this.// Mathayus glared at her. . .then smiled at what he was seeing below. Celia Ferguson had Ardeth Bey cradled against her, gently kneading his shoulder through the thick cloth of his tunic. Mathayus could hear her thoughts, and shook his head. So. She believed that she was doing him no good, was relieving none of his pain with her actions?  
  
She underestimated herself, but then, she always had. Her touch gave Ardeth Bey another focus, and so his body relaxed. She could not take his pain away, no. . .but as a warrior, he knew how important focus was. Mathayus heard her thoughts, saw her guilt. . .and smiled, realizing what was in store for Rick O'Connell. The American was coming up the stairs with his brother-in-law, and Mathayus could almost hear him snickering about Celia's reaction to Ardeth's approach. Could hear what he planned to say.  
  
'Hey buddy, hear you snuck up on the wrong girl,' O'Connell said with a smirk as he reached the landing of the second floor. Mathayus fought back a smirk of his own when O'Connell was hit by dual glares, one from Celia Ferguson and the other from Ardeth Bey. Already, the temper of which Mathayus heard so much was starting to make itself known. Already, the quiet tigress was showing herself. He heard Garai speaking of that quiet tigress, and couldn't wait to actually meet her.  
  
'No, I simply overreacted,' the American woman answered calmly, her slim fingers wrapped around Ardeth's shoulders. Without even realizing she was doing it. . .the freed soul of the Scorpion King could see the total lack of thought which went into the gesture. . .Celia brushed a raven lock back from the shoulders of the Med-jai commander, her stance protective. And the Scorpion King smiled in amusement at the total befuddlement now decorating the face of the other American.  
  
Mathayus looked at his companion, who was staring at her forever friend in open-mouthed astonishment. Apparently, Anck expected Ardath's reincarnation to take the same pleasure in the agony she inflicted upon the Med-jai as Anck herself. Mathayus intoned, //Do not forget, child, she has no reason to fear or hate the Med-jai. This man has just pledged himself to her protection, or were you not paying attention?//  
  
//The Med-jai failed her! Just as I did! It was their responsibility to protect her, and they failed! They failed her once, what makes you think Ardeth Bey will not fail?// his companion spat in answer. Mathayus closed his eyes, just as Anck closed her ears when Garai remembered his past in her time. Remembered that Ardeth Bey was the reincarnation of Rameses, just as Celia was the reincarnation of Ardath.  
  
She refused to see, to hear, to understand, and Mathayus felt that failure weigh heavily on his shoulders. A gentle voice whispered for him alone, //the failure is not yours, my son, for she refuses to see that which is in front of her. She refuses to see past the tattoos, even knowing that the Med-jai loved her sister as much as she did herself. You can only do so much, Mathayus, and Anck-su-namun bears some responsibility here.//  
  
Mathayus dipped his head in acknowledgment, telling Anck, //Ardeth Bey is an honorable man. And he is willing to. . .as the current saying runs. . .to fight dirty, if that will protect those under his protection. Such as your forever friend; or, rather, her reincarnation. You still do not understand, Anck-su-namun. But perhaps you are incapable of understanding an honorable man such as Ardeth Bey, when you have no honor of your own?//  
  
He was deliberately insulting, deliberately cruel. He knew all too well the confusion tearing at the heart and soul of his companion. Knew she couldn't sort her own actions from those of Meela's. He continued in that mocking voice, //After all, you never gave Evelyn O'Connell the chance to defend herself, when you killed her in front of her son, her husband, and her brother. This after you killed yourself in full view of your lover.//  
  
//Niy! That is not true!// Anck cried out, her voice raw with anguish. Mathayus, however, could not stop now. There was entirely too much at stake. Khaldun represented a threat greater than anything Ardeth Bey ever faced. Far greater, and the young Med-jai king would need all the help he could get. Mathayus was determined to make sure he received that aid. There was nothing he could do about O'Connell, but Anck was a different matter.  
  
//Is it not? Perhaps you continue to hold young Ardeth accountable for the misdeeds of his distant ancestor, Hamadi Bey? Then, my dear Anck, I can set your mind at ease, for Ardeth Bey comes not from the line of the Med-jai captain who sentenced your love to the hom-dai. Rather, he comes from the line of Hamadi's younger brother, Shakir. You do remember Shakir, do you not?// Mathayus asked.  
  
//Shakir Bey was my protector. Until Ardath was murdered and then. . . And then, Rameses asked him to raise his son. Ardath's son,// Anck whispered. She didn't follow that thought to the logical conclusion, for she added, //Shakir Bey. . .so Ardeth Bey is of his line. I do not see the resemblance.// If he could have, Mathayus would have rolled his eyes. Of course she didn't see the resemblance, for two obvious reasons. . .first and foremost, more than three thousand years passed!  
  
The other reason. . .well, obviously, she wasn't ready to hear the other reason. Instead, Mathayus replied, //Yes, Ardeth Bey is of his line. And Shakir, I am sure you will remember, was nothing like his brother.// That was quite true. After the hom-dai was cast, Hamadi paid for his presumption with his life, and leadership of the Med-jai was passed to his younger brother Shakir. For lack of a better word, Shakir Bey was the first Med-jai king, though they didn't use such phrases. . .that made it no less true.  
  
Anck did, indeed, remember her own guardian. Fondly, too, it would seem. She smiled gently, replying, //He was such a sweet boy. I remember, when he was first assigned to guard me, there was a part of me which hoped Rameses would not be pleased by my friend. . .she would have made an excellent wife for Shakir. And then, I would see Rameses and Ardath together. Things worked out for the best.// Perhaps there was hope for this arrogant little girl after all. She was not Cassandra. . .had none of Cassandra's strength or compassion, her determination to protect innocents. But there was something else there, which gave him hope.  
  
Mathayus answered softly, //Tis true. Ardath's destiny was not as the wife of Shakir Bey, but was to be found at the side of Rameses.// Although, her son's destiny was quite different. However, he would wait for Anck to figure it out. She already knew that Shakir and his wife Paziyah raised Ardath's son after her murder. It was just a matter of time before she figured out the rest of it. He hoped.  
  
And for now, there was another drama playing out before them. Mathayus returned his attention to that drama as Celia Ferguson carefully helped the still pained Ardeth Bey into a more comfortable position. Anck whispered, //Why do you care for him, my sweet sister? Remember, Ardath. . .remember how they failed you, remember they cannot be trusted. Remember, my sister! Remember!// Mathayus just shook his head sadly.  
  
. . .  
  
Blissfully unaware of the war in the Afterlife, Rick O'Connell regarded the pair in front of him. . .one still curled up, and the other in a protective stance. He looked from one to the other, somewhat bemused by what he was seeing. As well as Celia Ferguson's assertion that she overreacted. He was on the point of asking what exactly that meant, but he happened to see Celia's expression. She looked. . .for lack of a better word. . .haunted.  
  
And he decided to let it drop. Instead, he crouched down beside Ardeth, asking, 'You feel up to moving, buddy, or do I need to carry you?' This time, he was hit with a full-fledged glare, and Rick couldn't help irritating his friend further. He said, 'Jonathan, take his other side.' His brother-in-law didn't go into his usual complaints. Instead, he stepped to Ardeth's other side and gently pulled him upright.  
  
Ardeth leaned heavily against the Englishman, however, as they pulled him into Evy and Rick's bedroom. The American was on the verge of teasing Ardeth, asking if he didn't trust him, but the soft groans coming from his friend silenced him. A quick glance told him that Ardeth was tightly clenching his teeth. Rick remembered the pain of a knee to the groin, but that didn't stop his friend from trying to keep his pain to himself.  
  
So Rick O'Connell said nothing, and instead, eased his friend onto the bed very slowly. Jonathan now held Ardeth's shoulders and gently eased him back against the pillows. A vision struck the American, then. . .a vision, a memory, a dream. He couldn't remember which it was, couldn't explain. But once before, he did this. The world around him shifted, became brighter. He heard his own voice, which wasn't quite his own. //He was quietly murmuring to Ardeth, 'Rest easy, my friend. I will send your beloved to you when she is finished helping the healers with the other wounded.'  
  
'No, I will be fine. She is needed where she is. There are so many wounded, my friend, so many dying, and for what? For what?' came his friend's anguished reply. Rick's past self didn't answer. He just dipped a cloth into the basin of water, then began cleaning his friend's wounds. That part of him which was still Rick wondered why his past self had not yet called Ardeth by his name. But it was a vague question.  
  
'It was a foolish, foolish accident, my friend,' came his soothing response, 'no one is to blame.' Though Rick's past self knew for a fact Seti would try to find someone to blame. All Terumun could do was pray no one he cared for would be among those blamed. There was a whisper at his side, and Terumun looked up to see Ardath sinking to her knees beside them. Tears marked her face, but she was smiling as she looked at Rameses.  
  
'I just spoke with Lord Imhotep, my love. He said the casualties are far fewer than anticipated,' she said softly. Well, that was a relief. Although, knowing Imhotep, he probably had someone else tell Ardath. The high priest made little attempt to disguise his contempt for the young concubine. However, after she knocked Rameses unconscious by throwing the goblet at his head, Imhotep wisely avoided conflict with her.//  
  
'Rick? I say, Rick, are you all right?' Jonathan's voice pulled Rick back to the present. He looked first at his brother-in-law, then at Ardeth, then finally at Celia. The other American stood quietly at Ardeth's side, her stance still protective. Rick's breath caught in his throat, staring into the chameleon eyes of his houseguest. For the first time, he really looked at the young woman. . .to find Lady Ardath, beloved concubine of Rameses and best friend of Anck-su-namun, staring back at him.  
  
He looked at her before, in the last day, since her arrival. But that was before he saw into the past, and seen Ardath's face. For the first time, too, Rick realized that while he saw Ardath's face, he did not see Rameses.' How could that be? And while he could have never explained why he felt this way, it frightened him. It frightened him almost as badly as the thought of losing Evy. The American never found it easy to deal with uncertainty or confusion. Or, for that matter, things he didn't fully understand. Never mind that half the time, Ardeth Bey warned him, and every time he warned him, he turned out to be right.  
  
Rick fell back on old patterns, in his confusion. Pointing his finger at each of the other three people in the room, 'You, stay in bed. . .you, stay with him. . .you, come with me.' He grabbed Celia's arm as he spoke, fully prepared to drag her out of the room. He was not, however, prepared for her to kick his ankle. Nor was he prepared for Ardeth to push himself out of bed to grab Celia and pull her behind him. He was still in a helluva lot of pain, but his dark eyes showed only determination.  
  
Ardeth took a deep breath, as if to chastise Rick, but it was Celia who fired back, her hazel eyes flashing with rage, 'In the first place, Mr. O'Connell, I have a name. It is Celia. If you cannot remember that, perhaps Miss Ferguson would be easier on you. In the second place, if you wish for me to accompany you, then you will ask me, not tell me. In the third place, I will talk to you later, I want to make sure Ardeth is all right.'  
  
The pair stared at each other for several moments. Terumun laughed, somewhere deep within Rick's soul, observing, //the quiet tigress has awakened.// This was borne out a moment later, when Celia added as she stepped out from behind Ardeth and gently pushed him back down onto the bed, 'Oh, and the next time you pull a stunt like that, I'll do to you what I did to Ardeth, and don't think I won't.'  
  
In spite of himself, Rick laughed, wincing a little as the dark hair whipped around Celia's face. He said, 'Believe me, I'm not laughing at you.' He raised his hands in the classic surrender gesture, continuing, 'Because I *do* believe you would do just that. You just reminded me of Evy right now, that's all. That's exactly what she'd do.' Rick taught her to protect herself, just as Rameses taught Ardath, with some help from Anck- su-namun.  
  
There was a minute relaxing in the young woman. Ardeth said softly, perhaps seeing that, 'Go, Celia. I will be alright, and O'Connell is most impatient.' This was said with a roll of his eyes, and Rick stared at Ardeth. Damn. First he found out that his old friend had a younger brother who rescued him from Hamunaptra, then he learned about the rest of Ardeth's family, including the fact that his father died when he was only five years older than Alex.  
  
And now, with this woman, Ardeth was behaving. . .well, just like a normal human being. Something Rick hadn't realized he was capable of, and that thought made him ashamed. Just in the last two days, he learned more about Ardeth Bey than he had in the previous seven years. Which made Rick wonder, a bit uneasily, what else his friend was hiding. Evy told him that the only reason Ardeth wouldn't have told them about the bracelet killing Alex at the end of those seven days, was if he himself didn't know.  
  
Rick shook his head, trying to clear it, as Celia looked at Ardeth. She seemed to be making sure he would, indeed, be all right. The Med-jai nodded, and Celia shifted her gaze to Jonathan, who said with an encouraging smile, 'Oh, go on, old mum. . .I promise I'll make sure Ardeth stays out of trouble!' Rick blinked. Come again? He looked over at Celia, whose dark eyebrows climbed almost into her hairline. Jonathan blushed, then added, 'Well. . .'  
  
'Take care of him, Jonathan,' was all Celia would say. Jonathan nodded sheepishly, then the two Americans left the room together. As they headed out into the hallway, Celia added softly, 'I know he will, though. Jonathan pretends to resent Ardeth for being everything Jonathan appears not to be, but he saved Ardeth's life at Ahm Shere, and the truth is, he cares more for Ardeth than he's willing to admit.' A short huff of laughter, almost derisive, then she added, 'Though isn't that just like a man?'  
  
Rick looked at the young woman, trying to figure out what she meant by the first part of her statement, and Celia continued, 'When he arrived, before he went to get you, I was honestly afraid he would strike me, or worse, for hurting Ardeth. He was truly worried about him. And Evy told me about him shooting that man about to shoot Ardeth.' Rick frowned. . . what man? Celia added, 'You didn't know? Evy and Jonathan stayed in place after you rescued Alex, to make sure Ardeth was safe. After he fought the man who initially kidnapped Evy, one of the others came up behind him. . .but before he could shoot Ardeth, Jonathan shot the henchman.'  
  
Now *that* Rick hadn't known. Then again, at the time, he was more concerned with getting his son back. Celia continued, 'Evy told me about it. She still hasn't told me the whole story, but I don't think she's ready to do that. On the other hand, she *did* tell me that it was the least she could do for Ardeth. . .to stay until he was safely headed back to his people.' Celia shook her head, murmuring, 'It's so strange, at times. Evy is terribly protective of him. Almost as if he was a member of her family.'  
  
That last sentence haunted Rick, and he wasn't sure why. They went through so much with Ardeth. . .Rick supposed that it wasn't so far- fetched, for Evy to consider him a member of their family. Then again, an understanding was reached between Evy and Ardeth seven years earlier, when Evy chose to go with Imhotep, to save Jonathan, Ardeth, Rick and Dr Bey. Rick saw, from the corner of his eye, when Evy's eyes met Ardeth's. //Live today, fight tomorrow,// his friend told him all those years ago.  
  
In the present, his current companion continued, 'You wanted to speak with me, Mr. O'Connell?' Rick winced at the formality, but knew he deserved it. This woman was the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, and three thousand years later, he finally realized that when Ardath was truly furious, past the goblet-throwing stage, she became downright icy. Just as Celia was now behaving.  
  
'Well. . .first, I wanted to apologize. I get. . .I turn into an ass when I'm worried. And I was worried about Ardeth just now,' Rick finally said. He didn't know what else to say. //I finally realized that you're the reincarnation of my best friend's lady, and I don't know how to deal with it, especially when I can't figure out why I haven't found the reincarnation of Rameses?// Uh-uh! No way, not a chance in hell!  
  
And Celia was looking rather dubious as well. She folded her arms over her chest, then said quietly, 'Mr. O'Connell, that's not what you brought me out here to discuss. And since I have the strangest feeling that you won't tell me the truth, I'll check on my daughter. This is only her first day in a strange place, and it might scare her when she takes a break from her training to find that I'm gone. If you'll excuse me?' She brushed past him without another word, leaving Rick to stare after her in shock. Oh yeah. She was definitely Ardath's reincarnation. On the other hand, at least Anck-su-namun wasn't around, or he'd really be in trouble! 


	7. Pain Above and Below

Part Six  
  
The pain was unlike anything he experienced before. Certainly, he was hurt in the past: the fight with the mummy warrior on the London bus came immediately to mind, and that pain was excruciating. But this was different. Ardeth curled into a ball on the bed, after Celia and O'Connell left the room together. And even the haze of pain still tying his insides in knots couldn't dampen his hearing. Ardeth allowed himself a tiny smile. To use a Western phrase, Celia was truly giving O'Connell hell.  
  
He closed his eyes, sighing a little as the pain continued to ease. He would be more careful in the future. It was never his intention to frighten Celia, though that was exactly what he did. He saw her standing there, so very still, her small body trembling. If he saw her face, he would have never touched her. He should have called her name at first, before touching her.  
  
Would have, could have, should have. Sometimes, it seemed like those words made up the bulk of Ardeth's life, from the moment he became the Med- jai chieftain, sixteen years earlier. He was still a young man, by the standards of many cultures, but half of his life was spent as the leader of his people. On the other hand, when he looked back, it did seem as though most of his worst mistakes were made in those first ten years. It didn't occur to Ardeth that they were normal mistakes for someone so young.  
  
He wasn't normal. There was no arrogance in that, only the simple truth. Or rather, he wasn't normal, as most people understood the word. He was a Med-jai, and this was normal for him. For him. The truth was, even the things that happened over the last seven years were abnormal, even for a Med-jai. The Creature rose twice.  
  
It never occurred to Ardeth that in three thousand years, there were only two Risings. The only thing he saw was that both risings took place during his years as chieftain. He couldn't fathom the possibility that there was no way Imhotep could have remained undiscovered forever. Nothing lasted forever. And if it hadn't been the Americans and Carnahans seven years earlier, it would have been someone else.  
  
And yet, and yet, and yet. . .it still took place on his watch. He couldn't see his way around that. So many times, over the last seven years, he went back and thought about what he could have done differently. His Med-jai had, to use an American phrase, their asses kicked in the first skirmish with the Americans. He called a strategic withdrawal: live today, fight tomorrow, as he later told O'Connell.  
  
Should he have risked the lives of his men and killed the Americans? No. No, because there was no guarantee that enough of his men would have survived to make sure that none remained. And if not the O'Connells and Jonathan, it would have been someone else. Someone who wouldn't have stayed and tried to put things right. Each time Ardeth tried to find a possible solution, he came up empty.  
  
Which left him back at square one. He told O'Connell that things were preordained thousands of years earlier, and he still believed that. But it was still hard for him to accept. Ardeth Bey was a man who believed as strongly in responsibility and consequences as he did in the gods. It was his responsibility to protect Hamunaptra. He failed. Twice. And the second time very nearly brought about the end of the world.  
  
Ardeth didn't realize it, but he was drifting to sleep. His body still ached, both from Celia's knee to his groin, as well as the tension of learning about Jason Ferguson's plans for his sister. And he was still so tired from Ahm Shere. Would he never stop being so tired? It was that exhaustion which intensified his self-doubt. He feared that if he accepted what he told O'Connell, then that would somehow absolve him of what he did wrong. A niggling little voice inside his head whispered, //but not all of that responsibility is yours to shoulder. Others must take responsibility for what they did.//  
  
Odd, how that voice sounded like his father's. When Suleiman Bey was alive, his younger son did all that was expected of him. And while young Ardeth would never admit it to anyone, it often seemed that nothing was ever good enough. True, the adult Ardeth understood that it was necessary. . .the Med-jai way of life was a harsh one. But that didn't stop the child from wishing his father loved him.  
  
//He did love you, my darling boy, he did love you,// an unfamiliar female voice said. //More than you can understand. I know that you were only a boy when he died, only three years from becoming a man. I know how hard it has been, since you became the chieftain of your people, but your father is proud of you. He is so proud of you, of the boy you were and the man you have become. Ardeth, my dear child, you have spent your entire life taking care of others. . .it is now time for you to take care of yourself, and allow another to take care of you. Admit, if only to yourself, how lonely you are.//  
  
Yes, he was lonely, but that was nothing new. He was used to being lonely, and whining about it did no good. The woman said with a sigh, //foolish, foolish child. Brave, and strong, and loving. . .but foolish. I suppose I should have expected that. Such foolishness runs in your bloodline. But you must listen to me, sweet child. Admitting your loneliness is not a sign of weakness, or of whining. It is a mark of strength.//  
  
Now mostly asleep, Ardeth saw the woman who was speaking. Strangely enough, though her voice was different, she looked like his mother. She said, //Take the first step. Reach out again to Celia. She has the same fears you do, sweet boy. Fear that she isn't good enough, but you can heal each other. You may take your time. But when you awaken, my dearest child, take the first step. It will be the first of many.//  
  
'First of many,' he whispered, his eyes now totally closed. From what seemed like a great distance, he heard Jonathan whispering him to sleep well, then he was being covered up. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and Jonathan added that he would check on Evy, Anatol, Miranda and Alex. Ardeth was to simply rest. That was all. Just rest. And Ardeth was too tired to resist, so he floated away into dreams of his past, when his brother was still alive and he had not the nightmares that even now tormented him.  
  
. . .  
  
Jonathan Carnahan closed the door behind him, allowing Ardeth to sleep in peace. It was little wonder the poor fellow was so tired. . .while Jonathan wasn't awake at the time, he heard about Ardeth's nightmares, and falling out of bed, so to speak. The embarrassment that alone would have caused the Ardeth Bey he remembered from their first meeting. . .well, he didn't imagine that fiery young man to have reacted well.  
  
Well now, that was strange, for him to think that about Ardeth, when he was *still* young. Jonathan frowned thoughtfully. He was what. . .eight, nine years younger than Jonathan? And yet, it often seemed to the Englishman that the chieftain was older, somehow. Jonathan didn't hold any illusions about himself. He was a wastrel, and a coward. He wasn't nearly as courageous as Ardeth, as determined as Evy, or as nervy as his brother- in-law.  
  
//But you saved Ardeth's life at Ahm Shere. There is more to you, if you would give yourself the chance and stop hiding,// came an unfamiliar voice. For some strange reason, the woman's voice reminded him of his late stepmother, the woman who gifted him with Evy. That alone addled his brain for a moment, then he thought about what she said, and the implications. The woman added, //And you must not be afraid of responsibility, Jonathan. You speak of the responsibility which Ardeth carries, by being strong and courageous.//  
  
Well, yes, there was that. Certain things were expected of Ardeth, by his people. And, Jonathan realized, by Rick, because of Ardeth's bravery, his determination, his strength. It was so much easier, being a wastrel rather than a hero. And to Jonathan, that was exactly what Ardeth Bey was. A hero. But as a coward, a wastrel. . .nothing was expected of Jonathan. There was a comfort in that. . .and pain.  
  
//A burden is lessened when many share it, Jonathan. You know this. Think back. Had Imhotep not taken your sister, would you and Rick O'Connell have joined forces with Ardeth?// the voice asked. No. They would not have. O'Connell meant to leave Egypt. Evy. . .Evy might have stayed, and faced the consequences of her actions. She would have likely lost her life. As Ardeth would have. The voice said softly, //Just so. Ardeth would have never survived, had he faced Imhotep alone. Sharing a burden, Jonathan.//  
  
'I am afraid,' Jonathan whispered into the silence. It wasn't that he didn't want to help. In his heart of hearts, Ardeth was as important to the Englishman as Jonathan's own sister. But he was afraid. So afraid. Of being wrong. . .of disappointing people. He did that his entire life. Now, he was afraid of disappointing others, not just because of the expression in Evy's eyes. . .but because it seemed likely that letting someone down would cost them their lives.  
  
//I know you are afraid, Jonathan,// the voice said gently, //just as I know that Ardeth is afraid. He is afraid to give his heart. Afraid he will fail his people, just as you are afraid of failing your sister. The question is not, are you afraid. . .but will you allow your fear to rule you?// Jonathan looked back at the closed door, where Ardeth now rested. Afraid. Ardeth. Somehow, the image just didn't want to form.  
  
The woman continued, //It is true, Jonathan. I was with him at Ahm Shere, as you and yours struggled to defeat the Scorpion King. I felt his fear. . .terror, even. He was afraid, just as you are, that he would disgrace his people. But he stood and fought. That is true courage, my dear Nassor, not the absence of fear.// Nassor. She called him 'Nassor.' Why? The voice sighed, //Because in my lifetime, that was your name. You know this, Jonathan, I've seen it in your dreams.//  
  
That statement alone should have made him very afraid. . .that this woman, this spirit could see his dreams. But he wasn't afraid. He said softly, 'Yes, I do know. What can I do, though? What am I supposed to do? And why is Ardeth so afraid to give his heart?' There was another sigh, and the vague outline of a female could be seen. He couldn't see her face, just long dark hair and a white tunic-dress like the sort he saw in representations of ancient Egypt.  
  
//Because he fears having his heart broken. I realize that you and your brother-in-law often see him as simply stoic, with no feelings save anger, but there is far more to Ardeth Bey. Something his Med-jai understand. They've known him all his life, after all. Knew him before he put up that protective wall to shield himself. And that's all it is, Jonathan, my child feels more than most realize,// came the reply. Jonathan looked again at the door, and the voice said gently, //Celia is checking on her daughter. . .and your brother-in-law is seeing to his son. You may stay with him, if you wish.//  
  
'Don't be silly, he's a grown man, not a little boy, he. . .' Jonathan began. But then, his voice failed him. //He needs me to watch his back. // The features were still obscure, but Jonathan could tell that the woman was smiling. Jonathan whispered, 'This isn't just about today, is it? Something's coming. . .and you want. . .and you need me to watch over Ardeth. This has to do with Celia's brother.'  
  
The figure inclined her head. Jonathan continued, his voice rising ever so slightly in desperation, 'But why me? Why not Rick? Ardeth is his best friend, after all. . .Rick should be the one watching Ardeth's back, not me! He'll do a much better job of it!' Now the woman looked at him sadly, and Jonathan realized that he did it again. He spent his life disappointing people, and he was still doing it.  
  
//If I thought I could trust Rick O'Connell to take care of my child, I would do it. I cannot. Mark my words, he is a good man. Better than he realizes. But before he would look after my child, he would behave like a petulant child and declare that Ardeth's life or death is not his concern. I want someone who will not waste my time and his breath, someone to look after my child. This task will take but a short time, Jonathan,// the woman replied.  
  
It was on the tip of Jonathan's tongue, to say that Rick wouldn't do or say any such thing, but he knew his brother-in-law better than that. This woman had the right of it. She added gently, //You know Rick will protect your sister and the boy Alex. You know that. All I am asking is for you to protect my child, until he can find the missing piece of his own heart. Or rather, until he is willing to open his heart. Can you do that for me, old friend?//  
  
Old friend. Once before, she called him 'Nassor.' She knew him, then, in his previous incarnations. Jonathan whispered, 'You called me your old friend, and my name in the past. You knew me?' The apparition nodded, and though Jonathan still couldn't make out her features, he sensed that she wore a grave expression. The Englishman continued, swallowing hard, 'Was I. . .was I brave, like Ardeth?'  
  
//You were one of the bravest men I ever knew. And we have fought side by side, in so many lifetimes since then. To put it properly, there has never been an occasion when we did not fight side by side, in protection of someone whom we both loved so much. Oh, Jonathan, do you not see? My child had the right of it, when he said that things were preordained thousands of years ago. Do you remember that? On the flying apparatus?// the woman asked. Jonathan nodded numbly. He did, indeed, remember Ardeth's assertion once Evy remembered her past as Nefertiri. The woman continued, //He was right. . .including Imhotep's risings. The hom- dai was a terrible mistake, a flawed curse doomed to fail.//  
  
'Are you telling me that the Med-jai were never supposed to succeed forever? Then why cast the hom-dai in the first place?' Jonathan demanded. He heard a groan on the other side of the door, then mumbling in Arabic. Wait a minute-that wasn't Arabic. Rusty as he was, he could still recognized ancient Egyptian. Ardeth was speaking ancient Egyptian in his sleep? A chill ran down the spine of the Englishman as he pondered the meaning of this. He looked back at the woman, who was visible only for a moment.  
  
//Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. Jonathan, you must listen to me. You must clear your mind and accept what you see and hear. Ardeth will have need of you, and you cannot help him if you continue to deny what you see and hear,// the woman replied. Even as he heard the words, Jonathan blocked them out, for he recognized the woman in that split second he saw her, and realized whom Ardeth was.  
  
'No,' Jonathan replied, his voice shaking, 'No, I don't believe you! Ardeth is nothing like him! It can't be!' The woman merely regarded him, grief shining in her eyes, and Jonathan continued, 'I will watch his back, and I will take care of him, but I will not accept that a man like Ardeth Bey was a homicidal maniac. I will not accept that! He's a good man, a better man than I could ever hope to be!'  
  
The apparition sighed and answered, //Then you are doomed to failure, Jonathan. Nevertheless, I will continue to look after you, as I always have. Search your memories, Nassor. You know whom I am. Just as you know whose memories my child carries. And should you falter, in your protection of my child. . .I shall step in. If I am allowed to do so. You see, I must also watch over my reincarnation.//  
  
'How. . .how is that possible? If Celia. . .I'm guessing Celia is your reincarnation at least, but if she is your reincarnation, then you shouldn't even be here,' Jonathan replied. The form of the woman solidified with his words, and for the first time in three thousand years, he found himself face to face with Lady Ardath. She smiled faintly, looping a dark curl behind one ear, in a mannerism which was so uniquely her own, it took Jonathan's breath away.  
  
//She is indeed my reincarnation. So she carries my memories, and my spirit with her. However, her soul is her own, because she is shaped by her experiences, just as I was shaped by my own. Cecelia Ferguson is her own person. Just as your sister is the reincarnation of Princess Nefertiri, but she is also Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell. Her own person. I can look after Celia, after all of you, because our spirits are the same, but not our souls,// came the answer.  
  
Those words had the effect of unlocking the rest of Jonathan's memories of Nassor, and shattering the illusion that he created to protect himself. He looked over his shoulder at the room behind him, almost despairingly, and asked, 'And that is how it is possible for Ardeth to be Rameses reborn? Ardeth has his memories, which have yet to be awakened, and his spirit. But not his soul?'  
  
//Just so,// Ardath replied, nodding, //but his memories remain hidden from him, Nassor, because the gods fear he is not yet ready to see his past. My child is a strong man, old friend, you know that as well as I do. But he takes responsibility upon himself, responsibility that is not his to take. How then, do you think, he would react to knowing he was Rameses in a previous life. . .knowing, as he does, of the mistakes which my love made?//  
  
Well, when she put it like that. . . Still, Jonathan resisted what he was hearing. And he couldn't help feeling a little angry with the gods. Rather foolish, of course, but Jonathan was still on the impulsive side. And his companion wasn't finished with him.  
  
Lady Ardath took another step forward, her hazel eyes now clear as daylight as she continued almost pleadingly, //Think, Jonathan. You, of all people, know how seriously Ardeth takes his responsibilities and duties as the Med-jai chieftain. You of all people know how deeply it wounded him when he was unable to prevent Imhotep from rising! The gods know how often you've made him the point of your jests because of it.//  
  
Jonathan started to protest, but stopped. She was right. He and Rick both made light of Ardeth's commitment to his people, as well as his struggles to protect Hamunaptra. Jonathan didn't have much going for him, not like his brother-in-law, but he was honest with himself. He met the direct gaze of his ghostly companion and nodded his acknowledgment. But for the first time, he found himself able to think about things from Ardeth's point of view.  
  
Seeming encouraged by this, Lady Ardath stepped forward, asking softly, //Might I touch you? I promise, no harm will come to you. But with my touch, you can hear and see things from the eyes of my child. And you will understand him, Jonathan, better than you ever have.// Jonathan nodded, swallowing hard, and Ardath put her hand on his wrist. He gasped, feeling the shame and fury within Ardeth's soul as Imhotep was unearthed a second time.  
  
The anxiety and frustration as he left Egypt for England, which intensified when he arrived in London and realized the O'Connells were once more involved. His fear that he would be too late. Fighting back to back with Evy. Losing his balance, and the blows which followed during his fight with the man who took Alex. The pain in his shoulder as his flesh was sliced open. . . the confrontation with Rick outside.  
  
Jonathan closed his eyes as vertigo swept over him, but the sensations and memories were there, nonetheless. And for the first time since his sister's kidnapping, Jonathan understood why Ardeth hadn't fought back. He blamed himself. He allowed Rick to manhandle him and shove him about because he felt he deserved it, for failing to protect Evy. Waves of guilt and frustration swamped over him.  
  
'But it wasn't his fault,' Jonathan whispered as he slowly returned to himself. Ardath was now standing only inches from him. He focused on her, repeating, 'It wasn't his fault. There were so many of them, and only one of him. How can he blame himself for my sister being taken?' As soon as the words were out, though, he knew the answer to that question. Because that was whom Ardeth Bey was.  
  
//Yes. And that is why he needs you, Jonathan. O'Connell is still denying what is true; he is still running away, regardless of what he tells my child. Please, Jonathan. I am begging you. Watch over Ardeth. Celia will do the best she can, but until my Ardeth lets her into his heart, there is very little she can do, and she must protect her daughter as well. Please? In the name of the friendship Nassor once shared with Rameses?// Lady Ardath asked.  
  
In the name of the friendship Nassor once shared with Rameses. Jonathan stared at the young woman in front of him, as another rush of memories swept over him. She, alone, knew the truth about that particular subject. Nassor became drunk one night, and confronted Ardath. He told her what he would do to her, if she ever hurt Rameses. Then he collapsed, and didn't wake up until the following morning, with the mother of all headaches, and Ardath taking care of him. She swore that she would never speak of their conversation with anyone, not even Anck-su-namun.  
  
She kept that promise, and now, she asked Jonathan's aid. A part of him demanded that he flee from her at that very moment. After all, he was Jonathan Carnahan. He wasn't Rick O'Connell, adventurer extraordinaire, or Ardeth Bey, resolute hero of the desert. He was a wastrel and a gambler, a man who repeatedly failed his sister, though never when she needed him most. He was the last person Ardath, concubine of Rameses, should be asking.  
  
He was the only person she was asking. If he denied her this, she would not simply ask someone else. She would do this herself. And Nassor loved this woman, once an understanding was reached between them. Nassor, the man he was once. A great general, trusted by the pharaoh. The pharaoh, the one person who had Nassor's complete and unwavering loyalty. His love.  
  
That answered that question then. He looked at Ardath, squaring his shoulders. He would do his best. Maybe it wouldn't be good enough, but maybe it would. It was good enough in the oasis of Ahm Shere, when he saw that man put his pistol to the back of Ardeth's head. It was enough when he distracted Meela/Anck-su-namun while Alex resurrected Evy. The part of him that was Nassor seemed to light up inside, and Jonathan understood. Lady Ardath was asking nothing of him that was new. Only to continue to care for those whom he loved.  
  
'In the name of the love which Nassor held for Rameses, you have my word, my Lady Ardath. I will take care of your namesake, until your reincarnation can do so. Will that do?' Jonathan asked. Lady Ardath nodded, her smile brightening the entire second floor. Jonathan swallowed hard. He forgot what her smile was like, and he whispered in his rusty ancient Egyptian, 'Oh, my queen. . .how I have missed you.'  
  
Ardath's smile brightened further, and Jonathan gasped, realizing what he had said. He also remembered that he. . .that *Nassor,* indeed called Lady Ardath, 'my queen' during their lifetime. She replied, //I highly doubt, old friend, that you missed my pranks, or my habit of turning up where you least expected me. . .much less my temper. There were times, Nassor, when you almost had a goblet thrown at you!//  
  
'That is not true. . .I have missed your pranks most of all. Though, I will admit, I do not miss your temper. . .not in the least. Flying goblets were never my favorite things,' Jonathan protested, smiling, still speaking in ancient Egyptian. He continued, 'I have missed your pranks. . .especially the pranks you and Anck-su-namun used to play on Nefertiri and Imhotep.' Anck-su-namun. For the first time, Jonathan remembered what she was like before Ardath's murder, before things went so horribly wrong. Jonathan asked softly, What happened to her, Ardath?'  
  
She sighed, answering, //The same thing which happened to my love, Nassor. The very same thing. I forgave her, long ago. . .forgiving Imhotep is part of the reason I am here.// Jonathan looked at her, and Ardath looked back, her eyes flashing with rage as she continued, //I asked him to look after Rameses, after Khaldun took my life. He promised that he would. . .he failed to keep that promise. He was too interested in. . . other things.//  
  
'And that is why you cannot move on! Because you cannot forgive Imhotep for breaking his promise. . .and that is why you speak as you do of the hom-dai. So long as Imhotep remains in his limbo, you cannot forgive him, and there can be no closure. But Ardath, my queen, what about. . .?' Jonathan asked. He faltered, remembering Imhotep's suicidal plunge into the Underworld after Anck-su-namun abandoned him.  
  
//That is part of what is coming, old friend. This threat, of which my child has spoken, this new partner of Jason Ferguson. . .Imhotep plays a role in the coming battle. My child saw the barest glimpses of what is to come, when he told your brother in law that events were preordained thousands of years ago. But small glimpses only. . . even I, in the afterlife, can only see so much, and I cannot tell you more than I have,// Lady Ardath replied.  
  
Jonathan nodded his understanding. He whispered, 'I have missed you, my queen. . .my sister.' A gentle smile lit her face, and a small, nearly transparent hand reached out to grasp his. Jonathan continued, blinking back tears, 'I never told you this, but I always suspected Imhotep dismissed you because he was jealous. Imhotep, Terumun, Nassor, and Rameses were always friends. When Rameses met you. . .he didn't listen to Imhotep the way he did once. And you were his rival for Anck-su-namun's love. He was jealous of you, and hid that envy under contempt.'  
  
Ardath nodded, replying, //I realized that, when I reached the Afterlife. Do not look so shocked, Jonathan. I was raised by the Israelites, and for that, they shall have my love for all eternity. But in my soul, I was an Egyptian. . .and so, I spend my time in the Egyptian afterlife. In the time between the rebirths, Rameses and I are united, if only for a time. You must understand, Jonathan, time passes much differently. The three years between Ardeth's birth and Celia's were but a heartbeat in the Afterlife.//  
  
'Wait a minute. You said the time between the rebirths, you were reunited, you were together. What about all the lifetimes between?' Jonathan asked. Ardath shook her head sadly, and Jonathan gasped, 'But why? Rameses. . .you were his whole world. It doesn't make sense, as much as he loved you. . .it was his choice?' This time, Ardath nodded and Jonathan sputtered for several moments, trying to articulate what he was thinking. In the end, however, it was not necessary, not with his current companion.  
  
//Rameses has felt unworthy of me, these last three thousand years. Something he finally acknowledged during one of our times together. He has spent the last thirty centuries, trying to make up for what he became after my death. Trying to make himself worthy of my love once more. It is only now, as Ardeth Bey, that we have the chance to change his mind. Part of it will be Ardeth's own responsibility, to accept the love of my reincarnation. . .and Celia will need to be strong enough to pick up the pieces when he does remember,// Ardath replied.  
  
Jonathan snickered and replied, 'Well, after what I just saw, I scarcely think that will be a problem. Celia may be quiet and reserved at first, but Rick got her angry just now.' A familiar, impish smile lit Ardath's face, one Nassor recognized immediately. The one she always wore when she was ready to pull a particularly impish prank on Imhotep or Nefertiri. By the looks of it, probably Imhotep.  
  
//Yes, I did notice that,// came the playful response, //and if your brother-in-law does something so foolish a second time, I believe my reincarnation may just teach him a lesson in manners. What was it that your sister said, Jonathan, the only thing that frightened her was his manners?// Jonathan honestly wasn't sure, but that did sound like something Evy would have said when she first met Rick!  
  
'What do you think she would do, my Lady. . .your reincarnation, I mean?' Jonathan asked. Ardath cocked her head to one side, her hazel eyes growing thoughtful. Each gesture, each motion, each smile, brought back more and more memories for the Englishman. It was becoming very hard for him to find the line between his own memories and Nassor's. Which was particularly strange, since they were so different.  
  
//I cannot speak for Celia. . .as I have told you, our experiences have been very different. Therefore, our actions will be somewhat different. However, if it were me. . . well, you remember what I did to Terumun when he tried to man-handle me, after Rameses was injured during battle,// Ardath replied. Jonathan grinned, finding the memory without difficulty. The young concubine continued, //He probably thought that was Anck's idea. But you'll notice, he never tried to do that again.//  
  
'Yes, well, anyone who spent much time in Seti's court quickly realized that only a fool would cross you. . .whether the retribution came from you, Anck-su-namun, or Rameses himself, it wasn't worth it!' Jonathan retorted and had the pleasure of hearing Ardath laugh. Jonathan continued more seriously, 'You do realize that anytime someone harmed you, Anck dealt with it first, before she would go to Rameses.'  
  
//I know that she beat the man responsible for my miscarriage to death. Everyone believed it was a drunken brawl that took his life, but after my own death, and I was reunited with my daughter, I learned that while Rameses and I wept together, Anck found the man and beat him to death. Nassor, am I responsible for what she did? She caused much pain in my name,// Ardath asked, looking anxious.  
  
'Absolutely not! You had nothing to do with the decisions she made. . .nor did you ask to beat that man to death. She made her own choices, Ardath. . .she made them each time. You spoke a moment ago, of Ardeth taking responsibility for things when he should not. You are the same way, Ardath. . .it would seem that bloodline inherited that particular trait from both you and Rameses,' Jonathan replied.  
  
Ardath responded with a faint smile, saying, //I suppose I knew it. . .I just needed to hear someone else say it. I named my daughter, did you know that?//  
  
Jonathan swallowed hard, as Nassor's grief rose up in his throat. He remembered the miscarriage. Ardath was five months pregnant with her and Rameses' first child at the time. It was part of an assassination attempt against Seti. The young concubine cried out a warning, and was thrown from the balcony by a conspirator. The healers, including Imhotep, were lucky to save Ardath, but they could not save her unborn daughter.  
  
Nassor never knew that Anck found out who was responsible, and killed him, but it didn't surprise him. Anck's love for Ardath verged on the obsessive. Not obsessive, in that she wanted Ardath to herself. . .but obsessive in what she would do to anyone who caused harm to her sister. But to be fair, Anck only went over the edge, when Ardath could not defend herself. Still, neither Nassor nor Jonathan were of a mind to be fair.  
  
For Nassor, this was because Imhotep's betrayal was the final straw for Rameses, and for Jonathan, it was because the cheap little whore killed his sister. Never mind that Evy came back to life. . .that wasn't the point. In the moment he saw his baby sister crumple to the ground, Jonathan Carnahan's life shattered with his heart. Anck-su-namun took something very important from him, something he couldn't get back.  
  
But Anck wasn't in front of either man right now. . .rather, it was Ardath, one of the few people whom Anck-su-namun loved, and someone whom Nassor loved, just as much as Jonathan loved Evy. And it was in Jonathan's voice that both men asked, 'And what did you name your daughter, my queen?' His instincts said that she chose a Hebrew name, though logic told him it would be Egyptian.  
  
//I named her 'Miriam,' after my first foster mother. . .and for the bitter tears I cried when she was taken from us. You should see her, Nassor. She is so beautiful. . .she looks just like Rameses,// Ardath answered. Her face tilted, and she sighed, //It is time for me to go, old friend. I have stayed as long as I might. But if you need me, you have but to call. You need no spell or chant to call upon me.//  
  
'It was. . .so good to see you again, my queen. . .my sister,' Jonathan said. Ardath smiled, and began to fade. The area began to lose some of its warmth. . .the warmth provided with her presence. No. . .no, it wasn't her presence alone which provided the warmth, but her love. Her love for Rameses. . .and, it would seem, her love for Ardeth. But that was the strange thing. . .he understood how she would love Ardeth, as he was the reincarnation of her love. But why did she call him 'her' child?  
  
Jonathan looked over his shoulder at the closed door. Ardeth. He swore to his recently departed visitor that he would look after the stubborn chieftain. Not the easiest job to undertake, as he and Evy learned on the bus ride home in London. They had to keep him still by rather under-handed means. Not, of course, that Evy minded using such underhanded tactics when it was to help Ardeth.  
  
However, it crossed his mind, ever so briefly, that she was gone. . .and what could she do to him, after all? But that traitorous thought disappeared almost immediately. He gave his word, and he hoped that still meant something. Besides, after two encounters with Imhotep, he knew better than to ask what a dead person could do to him.  
  
He rapped lightly on the door, and when he received no answer, he hesitantly opened the door to enter the room. The morning sunlight was streaming into the room, highlighting Ardeth's black hair. The chieftain lay on his side, away from the intrusive light, but Jonathan knew he could roll over easily. With that in mind, the Englishman made his way over to the windows, carefully pulling down the Venetian blinds.  
  
Once the room was somewhat darker, and the sunlight wasn't in Ardeth's eyes if he rolled back over, Jonathan started to leave the room. Ardeth's muffled, sleepy, 'Shukran, my friend,' halted him briefly. Jonathan whispered a 'you are most welcome, my friend,' then quietly slipped from the room. He didn't entirely trust Nassor with Ardeth, and since Nassor was a part of him, then he couldn't trust himself. Instead, he promised himself a check on Ardeth later. For now, he wanted to see if his brother-in-law was still alive.  
  
. . .  
  
Rick O'Connell was alive, though he might not stay that way. Not because Celia Ferguson had any intention of leaving him in a world of hurt, but because his wife was seriously annoyed with him. Honestly, hadn't Rick learned *anything* in the last seven years! Manhandling a woman already on shaky ground, emotionally speaking, was not a wise idea. There were times when Evy *really* had to wonder about her husband.  
  
It didn't help that Evy's own emotions were out of control, by virtue of her pregnancy. Alex came over to sit with her, after Celia excused herself, and together, they watched Anatol and Miranda. Or rather, watched Anatol teaching the little girl in a way that wouldn't result in serious injury to the little girl. Evy could tell, from the expression on the young Med-jai's face, that this was proving to be much more difficult than he originally thought.  
  
So, it was with more than a little relief that Celia reappeared when she did, and Anatol called a break. Alex took both Anatol and Miranda inside for refreshment, and Evy noticed immediately that Celia seemed terribly upset. She pulled herself to her feet and walked over to her new friend, asking softly, 'What is it, Celia, did Ardeth do something?' It wasn't a lack of faith on her part, but Ardeth was a man, and most men did things without thinking.  
  
'It wasn't Ardeth. . .it was me. I hurt Ardeth,' Celia acknowledged, looking very shaken. Evy raised her eyebrows questioningly. How exactly was that possible? Ardeth was almost a foot taller than Celia, and Evy had no idea by how much he outweighed her. Celia added, her voice dropping, 'He startled me. . .and I. . .well. . .I kneed him.'  
  
Evy blinked, trying to sort that out in her mind. The other young woman turned bright red with embarrassment and leaned closer, whispering, 'You know? Getting a man where it counts.' Get. . .oh. OH! Evy looked at Celia in astonishment, and again, the other woman blushed. She whispered, 'He startled me. . .I was thinking about... something else. He touched my shoulder, and I jumped. And then. . .I. . .oh, are you really gonna make me say it?'  
  
Evy put her hands on the American woman's shoulders, giving a gentle little squeeze as she comforted, 'No, not at all. I'm sure he's not angry with you. . .' Celia shook her head, and Evy had a feeling that made her feel even worse. Evy put her arm around Celia's shoulders and led her back to the tree where they were sitting before Celia excused herself to go into the house.  
  
'No, he's not, and that makes it worse. He blames himself, for startling me. And then I yelled at your husband,' Celia added as they sat down. Evy's eyebrows climbed right into her hairline at that. Celia gave a little shrug, saying, 'I don't usually do things like that. I'm not a lady, that's not been disputed for some time, but I still don't go around snapping at people I just met. Not even when I'm really angry with them.'  
  
'What exactly did Rick do?' Evy asked diplomatically. As Celia said, it wasn't like her to yell at someone, only a day after she met that person. Moreover, Evy knew how. . .abrasive her husband could be on occasion. She remembered telling him at the entrance to Magic Carpet Airways that he had no subtlety. . .and he didn't. That didn't make her love him any less, of course, but it was a fact of his nature.  
  
Celia outlined what happened first in the hallway, after Jonathan and Rick came back to help Ardeth, then what happened inside the bedroom Evy shared with Rick. Evy cringed, especially at Rick's attempt to forcibly drag Celia out of the room. She had understood it, in England when first she was taken, then Alex. But there was no immediate threat to this family, and no reason for Rick to behave like such a Neanderthal.  
  
Celia finished the story, looking somewhat miserable. Evy gently patted her hand, replying, 'Listen to me, Celia Ferguson. You did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing, do you understand me? So you raised your voice to my husband. . . bully for you! There are times when Rick needs a swift kick in the pants, and this most assuredly was one of those times. He behaved quite abysmally, toward both you and Ardeth.'  
  
This time, it was Celia's eyebrows which shot into her hairline. The young woman asked slowly, 'So. . .you aren't angry with me? I mean, he *is* your husband, after all.' Evy gently patted her hand again, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said. It wasn't such an easy thing, not without Evy herself putting her foot in her mouth all the way up to her hip. And it wasn't that she didn't appreciate Celia's consideration, but. . .  
  
But some things, a wife couldn't do. It was Rick's way to brush off things at times, and Evy knew that if Celia took him to task for something, then Rick would probably have a better chance of remembering that. After a moment, Evy looked at her friend and said softly, 'If my husband does something to offend you, then you should tell him. He's my husband, dear girl, not my son. I love him desperately, but he can be quite rude when he has no reason to be. Just as, as much as I love Ardeth as my own brother, he can be. . .overwhelming.'  
  
A faint smile touched the corners of Celia's mouth at that as she replied, 'Trust me, he wasn't at all overwhelming a few minutes ago, when he could barely walk. But I take your point. I'm not homing in on your territory, then?' Evy shook her head vehemently. Not at all. In fact, in a houseful of men, she needed all the help she could get to keep her men in line. All four of them, and she told her friend that.  
  
'Listen to me, dear friend. . .I am one woman, living in a house of men. I will take any and all help I can get. You and Miranda would be welcome for that reason alone. So if my husband offends you, then please call him on it. Same with both of my brothers. I will ask you to leave discipline of my son to me, but the other three? Your help would be most welcome,' Evy replied.  
  
Celia smiled a bit shyly, and Evy decided now was the time to make one other request of her friend. She said slowly, all too aware that there were times when she was just as clumsy with her words as her feet had been once, 'Celia. . .I know that you lost your job in Chicago. So, I was wondering how would you feel about staying in Egypt for the next few months? I'll need help as my pregnancy progresses.'  
  
Celia frowned, as if she wasn't sure what Evy meant, and the Englishwoman continued, feeling like she was blundering along, 'What I mean is, my mother died when I was rather young, and I've never really been pregnant. . .' //Oh, that was a stupid thing to say, Evelyn!// The young woman shook off her self-disgust and went on, 'I don't know what to expect, since this is my first pregnancy, and I do need an ally.'  
  
Celia's frown disappeared, along with her confusion, and she replied, 'And you need someone around who has been through it, knows what to expect, and when to step in?' Evy nodded, relieved that Celia understood exactly what she was asking. She would need help in the months ahead. . .not just to make sure she didn't overdo it, but to make sure the boys. . .especially Rick and Alex. . . didn't smother her.  
  
'Well, like you said, I don't have a job to return to in Chicago. There's nothing left for me there. So we'll see how it goes. If Miranda likes Egypt, then I'll stay as long as you need me,' Celia replied. Evy hugged her friend impulsively, as that was more or less what she was hoping Celia would say. The American returned the embrace, then laughed. The Englishwoman pulled back and Celia remarked, her hazel eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter, 'Although, somehow, I think Miranda will be just fine.'  
  
Evy looked over her shoulder to find Miranda and Alex pulling Anatol back outside, Miranda obviously asking the young Med-jai for more lessons. The young women looked at each other, then burst out laughing. Anatol shot them a Look, but since Evy received far worse Looks from his older brother, it had no effect on her. On Celia, either, and Anatol's expression changed from stormy to pleading.  
  
'What do you think, Evy. . .should we rescue Master Anatol from the terrible toddlers?' Celia asked, her eyes twinkling with laughter. Evy opted not to remind her friend that at eight, Alex was hardly a toddler, because, of course, that wasn't the point. The point, rather, was the pleading look on Anatol's face as they dragged him to the practice area. She was sure she would never see an expression like that on Ardeth's face.  
  
Which is why she looked back at her friend, and said, 'Not at all! We'll just let him suffer!' Celia laughed and nodded her agreement. The pleading look changed to one that warned both young women that they would pay. But Evy just laughed harder. Life taught her that things rarely stayed this simple and it was best to enjoy yourself. You just never knew what would happen next.  
  
. . .  
  
Leaving the Afterlife for the mortal world, even as a spirit, was exhausting. However, Lady Ardath, once known as Eavan, never before asked to travel to the mortal world. And because of that, she had little trouble convincing the gods that she should go. They wiped the memory of Rameses clean, in no small part because they were tired of him denying himself forgiveness and love.  
  
However, those memories also left his current reincarnation vulnerable, and it was for that reason that Ardath was permitted to seek out the incarnation of her old friend Nassor. There was another reason. Though Imhotep cast himself into the Underworld, after the betrayal of Anck- su-namun, there were those who would see to it that he did not remain there. Even now, thousands of miles away, an innocent man was murdered, because of his resemblance to Imhotep. He would be a vessel for Imhotep to rise again.  
  
She could not tell Jonathan that. It would do no good. The Med-jai did not fail. Imhotep would rise this time because of something totally beyond their control. And it disgusted Ardath that the hom-dai was even cast. She hated Imhotep for what he did and what he failed to do. But she also hated Hamadi Bey, for condemning her son and so many other innocent children. She hated him for condemning a people she loved from her first meeting with them, right along with Imhotep himself. Imhotep didn't deserve to live. . .and the Med-jai didn't deserve to be his guardians.  
  
She still couldn't come to a conclusion about how she felt about Anck- su-namun. She still loved her forever friend. . .that was never in doubt. But the things she did. . .oh, the things she did! Both as Anck and as Meela! The knowledge of what her friend did tore out Ardath's heart all over again. Not only that knowledge, but also the knowledge that Ardath's own death prompted Anck's disintegration.  
  
'That is not your fault, my daughter,' a familiar voice said. Ardath looked up as Hathor glided over to her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. The goddess continued, 'Anck-su-namun made her decision, a decision which had nothing to do with you.' Ardath sighed deeply. The goddess was right, but. . . Hathor, however, would have none of that. She put both hands on Ardath's shoulders, gently pulling her around to face her, and said, 'It was not your choice to make, daughter. . .only Anck's. Only Imhotep's.'  
  
'She is still my sister, still my forever friend,' Ardath answered, looking down at the mortals. Hathor did not release the young concubine. Rather, she tightened her hands on Ardath's shoulders and said nothing. Ardath looked back at Hathor, saying softly, 'She is still the same girl who shared her secrets with me. . .and kept my secrets safe. You know the things she did to those who harmed me.'  
  
'As did the Med-jai. . .but none ever confronted her about it. She spared them the trouble of meting out justice to the wrongdoers. Perhaps that was a poor choice on their part, not confronting her, for it led her to believe she could always fool them,' Hathor observed softly. Ardath nodded. She knew of what her goddess spoke, and the goddess continued, 'Mortals make poor choices, my daughter. But I do not believe that Anck is beyond hope, for even now, she loves you. . .and watches over your reincarnation.'  
  
That got Ardath's attention. She looked at her goddess in surprise, and Hathor continued, 'I speak the truth, daughter. From a place in between, a place that few know of, Anck-su-namun watches over your reincarnation, over Celia Ferguson. . .in part because she does not trust Ardeth Bey to do so.' Ardath grimaced. That sounded about right. She looked at the mortals, then at her namesake, still sleeping.  
  
She looked at the tattoos marking him of his proud Med-jai heritage. The Med-jai. How Anck hated them, even before she became the Pharaoh's concubine, mocking them even as they protected her. At the same time Ardath herself honored them, for their commitment to duty and because they reminded her strongly of her birth father. While she didn't remember her birth name, at that time, she did remember her birth parents. Her father was a Pictish warrior banished for marrying an Irish woman, her mother. And from her mother, Ardath inherited her light complexion and hazel eyes.  
  
The Picts were called the Painted Ones by invaders, for the tattoos that covered their bodies. They were more heavily tattooed than the Med- jai, but with the dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin of the Picts, the Med- jai still reminded her of her father's people before he left Caledonia with her and her mother when Ardath was but three years of age. There were few things about that time which Ardath remembered clearly, but she remembered her father's voice and face, just as she remembered her mother's face and voice.  
  
She also remembered the shipwreck that placed them in Egyptian territory, though nothing more until the Israelite slaves found the small orphan sitting in a field of flowers, crying. She didn't remember her name or how she got there, and so she was renamed. Ardath, the name she carried into eternity. Sometimes, when she thought about it, Ardath found it amusing. She was born in Caledonia of a Pictish father and an Irish mother.  
  
She was raised by Israelite slaves, and chosen as a concubine for the Egyptian prince. Her blood was Pict and Irish, but her heart was Egyptian. . .and in the Egyptian afterlife, she spent eternity. Hathor said softly, 'And you are free to go to the Elysian Fields, to Valhalla or to Tir Na Og, my sweet girl, if you so wish it. You need not separate yourself from your parents.' Ardath looked back at her goddess, smiling faintly.  
  
'Perhaps once this has been settled. They need help, my goddess. I did not tell them of the danger coming from the North, by the remaining men of Lock-nah. They do not know a man has lost his life, to bring Imhotep back into the world. But they will need me, when the final battle comes. Evil will try to cheat, as it always does, and I will make sure the balance is kept,' Ardath replied. Hathor removed her hands from Ardath's shoulders, to lightly brush her dark hair back from her face, before cupping her chin.  
  
'No, my child, we will keep that balance. I know of what you speak, and know that your bloodline will not be broken any more than it already has been. You have my word on that, Ardath,' Hathor replied firmly. The young concubine smiled faintly and Hathor drew her into her arms fiercely, whispering, 'Your reincarnation is not mine. . . she belongs to Isis. But Isis will not stand by and allow her child to come to harm.'  
  
'I do know that, my goddess,' Ardath whispered, 'I do know that.' She felt the goddess tightening her arms around her, just as Ardath's second foster mother, Jael, had on the night before Ardath was given to Rameses as a concubine. Ardath whispered against Hathor's neck as her goddess tried to comfort her, 'And what of Anck-su-namun, my goddess? What will become of her, since she has not yet been judged?'  
  
It would have been logical to assume Ardath did not care for her reincarnation. Logical, but erroneous. Her fear for Anck-su-namun was much stronger. . .as strong as her faith in her reincarnation. Celia, though quiet, was much stronger than Anck, and whatever happened, the young woman would survive the trials facing her. She would be fine, especially with Ardeth's protection. Ardath had faith that her reincarnation would finally put things right and her namesake would prove, once and for all, that the mistakes of Rameses were just that.  
  
Anck, on the other hand, troubled the concubine deeply. Hathor said softly, 'Do not fear for her, child. Anck-su-namun will have her chance for redemption, this I can promise you.' Ardath sighed deeply, trusting her goddess and exhausted more than she could ever remember being in her life. Her journey to speak with Nassor took more energy than she normally used.  
  
Hathor knew this. . .she gently kissed the top of Ardath's head, then pulled away from the concubine. She kept one arm around Ardath, saying softly, 'Come, sweet girl, you must rest now. Jonathan Carnahan is many things, but he has an honor all his own. He will watch over young Ardeth. Now, dear one, you must rest. Rest, and have faith in the mortals, because in the end, they are the only ones who can do what must be done.' 


	8. Betrayal in the Bazaar

Deana: Yeouch is right. . .poor Ardeth. But, you know he'll be more careful next time. Assuming, of course, that there IS a next time!  
  
Amalleigh: Thank you, and welcome! I'm glad you decided to continue reading. I particularly enjoyed giving the various Med-jai real personalities. You'll meet more as the story progresses, along with the rest of Ardeth's family. There will be some loose ends left in this story, which will be picked up in its sequel, but not a lot. . .more like, more weaving will be done in the sequel.  
  
Lauren: Alexis Cruz, who played Skaara in the Stargate movie and the television series Stargate SG-1, inspired Anatol. Which was actually funny, considering he really doesn't look that much like Oded Fehr, but every time I tried to rethink it, the image remained. Besides, I'm just evil enough to enjoy doing something like that. Erick Avari (whom I also met), after all, played his father in Stargate and the curator in the first Mummy movie. I couldn't resist creating another tie between the two movies.  
  
As for Anck. . .well, let's just say that she'll come to regret laughing at poor Ardeth.  
  
Part Seven  
  
Over the next several days, life fell into a pleasant routine at the O'Connell household. It seemed as if the Med-jai were always around, quietly conferring with Ardeth at odd times, and Rick often thought about what Ardeth told him before the incident with Celia. And speaking of Celia, wasn't that quite the surprise? Usually, Rick didn't like surprises. . .but he learned in the confrontation with Celia that she was a good bit tougher than she first appeared.  
  
That was a *welcome* surprise, especially since Evy told him that night that Celia would remain in Cairo until the baby was born. Rick was both pleased and worried, each for the same reason. Evy had a friend close by, who could help her through her pregnancy. . .and she had another woman, with whom she could make common cause against Rick. And this time, Rick was sure, Ardeth would be of no help to him.  
  
When his Med-jai friend wasn't meeting with the other Med-jai, Ardeth was with Celia. If he wasn't teaching her to fight, then he was talking to her about whatever they had in common. Rick never asked, and Ardeth never volunteered. Which didn't keep Rick from asking Evy if she knew what was said. She did, but wouldn't tell him, which made Rick very nervous. Not nervous enough to risk a Glare from Ardeth by asking, however.  
  
That didn't stop him from using a new tool he just learned: observation. While Anatol would teach Alex and Miranda how to fight, Rick would watch Ardeth and Celia. He watched the way they behaved toward each other. And the more he thought about it, in those first few days, the more he thought his wife was wrong about them. They behaved like two people slowly becoming friends. He could see no attraction between them, not like the attraction between himself and Evy.  
  
However, only a few days after his confrontation with Celia, something happened to make Rick change his mind. Once more, the two adults were sparring, Celia learning a little more every day. Ardeth first taught her the importance of keeping her balance, explaining that if her opponent could throw her off balance, then it would be much harder for her to fight. That mean, of course, it would make it much easier for her attacker to kill her.  
  
At first, she seemed as clumsy as Evy when Rick first met his wife, until Rick realized he was comparing the young woman to Ardeth, who had years of practice. And what Celia lacked in grace and speed, she made up for in determination. Which, Ardeth told him while the two men talked one day, was just as important. She would not give up. Speed and grace would come with practice, but determination was something different.  
  
That wasn't what rattled Rick O'Connell to his very core. . .rather, it was the dark, intense Look Ardeth gave him when he said it. The same type of look Rick himself would have given someone for denigrating Evy. As if. . .as if Ardeth was defending Celia from someone who insulted her. Which, Rick supposed he had, in a way. . .but it was still strange for him. A few hours later, during another practice, something else happened. Rick noticed that usually Celia was on her feet immediately after ending up on her backside.  
  
This time, however, she was slow getting up, and Ardeth reached down to help her up. As he took her much smaller hand in his own, Rick noticed a strange expression cross his face. Years ago, Rick saw a similar expression on a man's face after he received a mild electrical shock. That wasn't all, though. In the years since Hamunaptra, Rick never knew Ardeth to completely lower his guard. Not even when Horus died. . .by the time Ardeth swung around to face Rick, whatever guards which were lowered, were back up.  
  
But on this day, and in that split second, there were no guards to protect Ardeth. No shields. No way to keep out the outside world. Ardeth Bey, the man beyond the chieftain, beyond the commander, beyond the visionary, stood alone. Totally vulnerable, and it shocked Rick O'Connell to his very core. Through the years, Ardeth was the one constant, apart from Evy and Alex, in Rick's life.  
  
He was the one person Rick could always count on, and the first person Rick looked to when things got bad. In Ahm Shere, he found himself looking around for Ardeth after Evy was stabbed, only to remember that Ardeth returned to face the Anubis Warriors with his Med-jai. Rick supposed he got into the habit of thinking that nothing could faze Ardeth. Not the injuries he suffered in London, not even the death of his 'best and most clever friend.'  
  
But here he was, shaken when he took a woman's hand. The moment passed quickly as Ardeth pulled Celia to her feet, and they began sparring once more. The mask fell right back into place, as it always did, but Rick couldn't let it go. He, above all, knew how dangerous women could be to men. They didn't have to do anything-they just had to be, to exist, and a man could be distracted. Without even realizing it, Rick's blue eyes narrowed. Judging from what he just saw, Evy was right all along. Ardeth *was* attracted to Celia, which blew the hell out of Rick's mind.  
  
The young American woman, though feisty, was the last woman Rick would have expected to interest Ardeth. He thought Ardeth would fall for someone like Evy. . .though, Rick was glad he hadn't, since he wasn't so sure he could handle an Ardeth Bey determined to win Evy's heart. But still. . .Celia? She was cute, sure, in an American girl next door sort of way, but she wasn't exotic or beautiful.  
  
Okay, he didn't know that Ardeth was falling for her, just that he was attracted to her. But he also didn't know how Celia felt about Ardeth. Would she do right by him? Should he watch her back, or Ardeth's? Rick tried to laugh at himself, reminding himself that this was Ardeth Bey, after all. Evy told him on more than one occasion that Ardeth was *very* attractive to women. In fact, if his memory served, she actually called their friend, 'devastatingly handsome.' Which annoyed Rick to no end.  
  
So, of course the guy had other women, hadn't he? Ardeth was thirty- three years old, not some green kid. . .he had other women, he no doubt fell in love with someone in the past. Right? But what could it hurt? //Evy will be watching Celia's back, making sure she doesn't get hurt,// that insidious little voice said inside Rick's mind, //why shouldn't you make sure Ardeth doesn't get in over his head? What could it possibly hurt?//  
  
Right. And no harm ever came from reading a book, or from opening a chest! But that inner voice wouldn't give up, scolding Rick, //You don't know that he's ever been in love before, because you're never bothered to ask. He kept you from getting yourself killed, when Imhotep took Evy! This is something you can do for him. . .something that won't involve harm to Evy or Alex.// Rick recognized that the truth in that, so he couldn't use his usual excuse that it would hurt his wife or child. Rick hated it when excuses not to get involved were taken from him!  
  
. . .  
  
Rick wasn't the only one who noticed Ardeth's reaction when he took Celia's hand to help her up. . .but then, Jonathan was honoring his promise to Lady Ardath. He watched over Ardeth like a hawk over the last few days, noticing every meeting. . .and every time he and Celia were together. Unlike Rick, he studied the pair closely, noticing each expression. . .and when he reached down to help her up, it was the first time Ardeth touched her.  
  
Jonathan didn't believe in love at first sight, but he did believe in two people reaching tentatively out to each other. Which was exactly what he saw happening between Ardeth and Celia. Each would take a step toward the other. . .a step which would be matched. There was a part of Jonathan that hated Ardeth with a passion, for finding what Jonathan wanted so desperately. He was so jealous, especially given Jonathan's past divorces.  
  
But the other part. . .the stronger part. . .knew better. And was happy that finally, at the very least, Ardeth had someone he could talk to. A human, at least. Jonathan shuddered, remembering Ardeth's statement when they set out on Izzy's dirigible, about Horus. 'My best and most clever friend.' He also remembered the pain in Ardeth's eyes when the bird was murdered in the oasis of Ahm Shere.  
  
Was that why Lady Ardath wanted him to look after the Med-jai chieftain? Because his best and most clever friend was a bird, rather than a person? And what did it say, about Ardeth? It said, Jonathan realized with a cold feeling in his gut, that the young man was very, very lonely. For most of his life, Jonathan had envied men like Ardeth. . .men who had power and authority. While Ardeth wasn't exactly what the chaps back home would have called 'wealthy,' people listened to him. Well, most people.  
  
But it never occurred to him, until that moment, that a price would come with that respect. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking back to his memories of being Nassor. They told him that Rameses had a very hard time trusting people, fearing that relationships would be forged by his position, rather than by a desire for his company. The prince never put it in those terms, because he didn't think in such terms. . .but it was true nonetheless. And little changed in that respect over the last three thousand years.  
  
Jonathan was the first to admit he was often selfish and self- centered, a wastrel interested in wine, women, and song, in no particular order. But he didn't find the joy in those past times that he once did. It seemed empty, somehow. It started in Ahm Shere, even before that nasty little trollop killed his sister. It started. . .it started when Evy gasped out Ardeth's name, and Jonathan saw one of the bad guys aiming his pistol at the back of Ardeth's neck. There was no way Evy could take the shot in time. . .but Jonathan could.  
  
In that moment, Jonathan saved a man's life. And in that moment, he started to change. In the hours that followed, he lost his sister once. . .Evy was returned to him. . .and then he almost lost her again, when she risked herself to save Rick. How could a person remain unchanged? He lost the person he loved most in the world. . .gotten her back, only to face possibly losing her again. There was no way he could remain the same after that.  
  
But changes of that kind were frightening, to anyone. And so Jonathan tried to return to his old lifestyle, the one that meant no responsibility. . .no meaning. Lady Ardath, however, took that from him. Even as the thought crossed his mind, though, Jonathan knew it for the lie it was. Lady Ardath took nothing from him. Lock-nah did that, Lock-nah and Imhotep, Hafez and everyone who threatened Jonathan's extended family.  
  
A family which now included Ardeth Bey. And that was the source of Jonathan's fear. How could he hope to measure up to this man? This man, who would have sacrificed himself so they could save Evy and who *would* have died, if his younger brother hadn't followed him to Hamunaptra. Who put aside his own injuries, and for a time, his own people, to save Alex? How could he possibly measure up to Ardeth? He, who had a hard enough time measuring up to Rick and Evy. . .even Celia. . .much less Ardeth?  
  
//Do not try, old friend. . .you can only be whom. . .and what. . .you are. Do not try to be that which you are not, for then you are doomed to failure,// a familiar voice said inside his mind. Jonathan sighed quietly, knowing that Ardath was still with him, as she promised. The concubine continued, //You must stop thinking like this, Jonathan. When the time comes, when you are needed to protect my child. . .then you will be there, and you will keep your promise. Fear not!//  
  
He muttered under his breath, 'Yes, well, that's easy for you to say. . .you're already dead! I *will* be, after I fail to protect Ardeth from whatever's about to happen! I realize I'm a coward, but I'm no fool. Something's about to happen. . .I could tell that from all the meetings Ardeth has been having with his Med-jai chaps. Something's about to happen, and that bloody American, Ferguson, is up to his eyeballs in it!'  
  
There was a deep sigh, then Ardath answered, //Yes, Jonathan, you are right. Something is about to happen, but I am not permitted to tell you what that is. And you *will* fail my child, if you continue to think in such a way!// There was a harshness in her voice which wasn't there before. Jonathan straightened and glared at her. . .well, in the direction of her voice. No one ever called him on that before. Rick just told him to do as he was told. . .but never before did someone tell him, 'yes, you'll fail if you continue to behave like this.'  
  
'You don't leave much leeway for a chap to feel sorry for himself, do you, old mum?' Jonathan asked ruefully. A peal of delighted laughter was his reward, and the Englishman shook his head. He continued, focusing once more on his friend, 'I look at them together. . .Ardeth and your reincarnation. Their story will be much different, won't it? Not just from Nefertiri and Terunum, but from yours and Rameses, as well.'  
  
//Yes. They have a better hope than in the past. Ardeth is strong enough to carry on without Celia, and she, too, is strong enough to carry on alone. I hope it is not required of them. It is very lonely, in the afterlife, without the one you love. Understand, though they take their time. . .the love they will share will be no less passionate, and no less intense, than the love between Evelyn and Rick,// Ardath explained. Jonathan could almost see Nassor's friend smirking as she added impishly, //After all, my child is a very passionate, very intense man.//  
  
At those words, Jonathan suddenly had a rather clear picture of Celia locked in Ardeth's arms, the two young people engaged in a passionate kiss. Things didn't just stop there, either. Jonathan blinked a few times, trying to clear his mind of that particular image, then glared in Ardath's general direction again, sputtering, 'Oh, thank you very much. . . that is not an image I care to have in my brain!' Ardath simply laughed. The woman was nothing short of exasperating, and cruel to boot, forcing Jonathan to watch. . .!  
  
//Get used to it. . .remember, Nassor, Rameses and I were as demonstrative with each other, our love for each other, as your sister and brother-in-law are,// Ardath reminded him, laughing again. She always loved to laugh, and it seemed the afterlife didn't change that. And Jonathan remembered, much to his horror, that she was right. He started to reply with his customary, 'ohhhh, puh-leaze,' when Ardath continued, //Shhh. . .they start their practice once more, now that Anatol and the little one are finished!//  
  
Damn the woman, was she ever wrong? Jonathan winced at the stream of ancient Egyptian invectives which Ardath just hurled at him. . .so he almost missed Jason Ferguson sitting down beside him. And for the first time, Jonathan realized that Ardath was not cursing at him, but at Jason. Which didn't do much good for the Englishman, as he realized it meant that the *something* he and Ardath were discussing only moments earlier was about to happen. Worse yet. . .he wasn't supposed to interfere.  
  
'You know. . .my sister and niece. . .and your sister. . .have all been working really hard lately. I think it's time for them to play a little,' the young American said in what he evidently thought was a casual voice. Jonathan thought briefly, wondering if he would have recognized the un-casual note, if he hadn't known Ferguson was up to something. Well. . .yes. Actually, he would have. As one wastrel, he would know another without much difficulty.  
  
Jonathan sensed Ardath's tension. . .her fear even. The Englishman asked, as if he never really thought about it, 'What exactly did you have in mind, my good son?' And grinned inwardly at the way the American's eyes narrowed. This could turn out to be fun, after all. Jason Ferguson was the same age as Anatol, in terms of the years he spent on the earth. . .but he wasn't the man Anatol Bey was.  
  
On the other hand, Jason Ferguson didn't have Ardeth Bey as an older brother. Jonathan didn't know if one thing had anything to do with the other, but it was nice to think so. The American boy replied through tightly gritted teeth, "I was thinking, being women and all, they might like go to the bazaar. You know how women are about shopping." Ardath said quietly in the back of Jonathan's mind, //So it begins.//  
  
. . .  
  
Things were falling into place. When Ardeth and Celia finished with their practice for that day, Jonathan told them of Jason's suggestion. The Med-jai chieftain was amused by the dark look cast by his new student toward her younger brother at Jonathan's words about women. She preferred scholarly pursuits to shopping, it seemed, though she warmed to the idea when Evy excitedly informed her of the things she could find in a Cairo bazaar. . .things that would help them in their translations and putting pieces together.  
  
Scholarly pursuits, raising her daughter, and learning to fight, were her primary interests at this moment, it seemed. And she was approaching her new studies with the same determination she demonstrated when she and Evy were puzzling over a translation, or when Miranda was determined to wheedle something out of her mother, and Celia was equally determined that her daughter would receive what she desired when the time was right.  
  
As Ardeth told Rick O'Connell, while the pretty American lady lacked grace and speed, she had determination in great supply. And more than grace or speed, she would need that determination through the self-defense lessons. . .among other things. Ardeth had no doubt that her determination stood her in good stead, over the years. And though Miranda was sometimes willful, Ardeth had a feeling that Celia's determination was honed more by being both mother and older sister to her brother.  
  
Ardeth became aware, as the days passed, that Miranda often seemed preternaturally grown-up for a four year old girl. Certainly, she had the characteristics of many four year old children, including the inability to stop even when she got tired and the desire to help Mama or Papa. But in other ways, she seemed to be more of an adult than her uncle. Ardeth didn't understand the reason for that until he heard her talking to Alex. How she felt she had to be extra good, so her mother wouldn't be sad. Miranda didn't like seeing her mother sad. . .didn't like Jason Ferguson because he made her mother sad. So, she was extra good.  
  
Ardeth had a difficult decision to make. Should he tell Celia what he overheard? His first instinct was yes. . .Miranda was too young to be carrying such a burden, and he knew Celia would want to know. And yet. . .and yet, Ardeth couldn't shake the feeling that it was not for him to tell. Perhaps, he should have a word with Alex, since the boy also seemed uncomfortable with what Miranda told him.  
  
On the other hand, the eight year old was still struggling with the repercussions of the Bracelet of Anubis and his mother's death and resurrection. In a way, Ardeth's warning came true. While the apocalypse was averted, Alex's world almost ended, not just with his own brush with death, but also with his mother's. Which reminded Ardeth, he would have to ask the Elders, again, why he was never told about the Bracelet taking the life of its wearer.  
  
He vowed to find out when he returned to his people, once his holiday was complete. Ardeth didn't like going into battle without all the information available at his disposal. That was a very good way to get oneself killed, and though Ardeth had no fear of death, that did not mean he *wished* to die. Nor did he want to lead his warriors to death, if there was information that would be useful to them.  
  
Questions. Too many questions. As Ardeth stood at the foot of the stairs on the morning of their outing to the bazaar, waiting for the others to come downstairs, he sensed eyes upon him. Ardeth raised his head, ever so slightly, and made eye contact with Jason Ferguson. Hatred radiated from the boy, but Ardeth met his eyes coolly, allowing a somewhat amused smile to twist his mouth. He knew this boy for what he was. He did not fear what Jason Ferguson would attempt to do to him, only what he would try to do to his sister and his niece.  
  
Ferguson was the first to break eye contact, muttering, 'What are you lookin' at, you dirty bastard?' Ardeth simply raised his eyebrows with a small, cold smile, and looked at O'Connell, who was coming in from the kitchen. Jason's yelp of pain attracted their attention and both looked at Jason, who whined, 'What the hell did you do that for, you crazy bitch?' Evelyn evidently heard what Jason said to Ardeth, grabbed his ear. . .and twisted it.  
  
'I did that, you little fool, because I do not appreciate guests behaving in such a way, particularly not toward my friend, who is practically a member of my family. If I ever hear you speak to Ardeth, or anyone else in this house, in such a way, I will turn you over to the Med- jai, and allow them to deal with you! Are we clear on that?' Evelyn hissed, her brown eyes flashing with rage. She gave another twist, and both Ardeth and O'Connell winced at Jason's yelp of pain. Evelyn practically growled, 'Do. . .I. . .make. . .myself. . .clear?'  
  
'YES!' Jason screamed and Evelyn released his ear. She stepped back, and for the first time, Ardeth saw Celia on the step behind his long-time friend. He wasn't the only one. The boy whined, 'You could have stopped her, Ceil. . .you're supposed to protect me!' Ardeth fought a rise of fury, then a smile at the expressions now decorating the faces of both women. Judging from Celia's expression, she heard everything.  
  
'Yes. . .I could have stopped her. And you could have apologized to Ardeth for being so rude. As you're so fond of reminding me, Jason, you're twenty-five years old. . .not a little boy any more. Maybe you should start acting like the adult you claim to be,' Celia retorted. Ardeth was hard pressed to keep from smiling. Either Celia gained confidence since he started teaching her how to fight, or she was running out of patience with her brother's attitude.  
  
O'Connell said, grabbing Jason's collar, 'And on that note, we should get going. C'mon, Junior, you'll be with us. . .make sure you stay out of trouble.' Jason struggled and protested, but in the end, he didn't have the strength or the angle to do any damage to O'Connell. With him out of the way, Ardeth extended his hand first to Evelyn, and then to Celia. The last ones down were Jonathan and the two children, Alex and Miranda holding tightly to his hands.  
  
'What's he doing, coming with us?' Ferguson asked, pulling around, trying to pull away from O'Connell. The larger American, however, wouldn't release him, and Ferguson yelled, 'I wasn't inviting you, Carnahan!' Ardeth rolled his eyes, then ducked his head at the fury now blossoming in Jonathan's eyes. He looked around, then moved to shield Evelyn and Celia, at the same time Alex and Miranda darted behind Jonathan.  
  
But it was O'Connell who replied flatly, 'You don't have that right. Jonathan is coming. Period. Now shut your mouth and move, before I decide to hurt you for calling my wife names.' Ardeth turned ever so slightly, to make eye contact with Jonathan. As they decided, once Hanif, Garai, and Kaphiri brought news of Jason Ferguson's betrayal, Ardeth told Jonathan about the plans to abduct Celia Ferguson from the bazaar.  
  
He also told Jonathan about what the Med-jai were planning. To his surprise, Jonathan was already aware of. . .well, something, though Ardeth wasn't entirely certain of what that something was. In any event, Jonathan quietly pledged to make sure nothing happened to Ardeth, while Ardeth was watching over Celia. Then, he did something curious. He asked *why* he came up with a plan b, so to speak.  
  
The chieftain answered that too many times, he watched as plans went horribly wrong, and began finding ways to achieve his goal if something *did* go wrong. Jonathan simply nodded, his eyes never leaving Ardeth's face in a gaze which left the chieftain feeling somewhat confused. It was as if Jonathan was expecting him to say that, as well as something else. For that reason, Ardeth told Jonathan about the hardest part of his task as the Med-jai chieftain. . .the need to look at all the possibilities, and what would happen in each eventuality. In some ways, it was necessary for him to see the future.  
  
And while it wasn't possible for him to see into the future, as such, he was the Med-jai chieftain, and that was more than just being a warrior. As the Med-jai chieftain, he was a warrior, a commander, a ruler and a visionary. His visions did not come in the form of his dreams, as many did. Rather, he had always called them instincts, instincts confirmed when he consulted the scrolls of the past.  
  
As the group left the O'Connell house, Ardeth could not shake his instinct that during the days which lay ahead, he would need all of his skills, through all of his roles as the Med-jai chieftain. This time, he would have no scrolls to guide him. Only his own instincts, for Garai found no pertinent information at the Museum, and he would be needed today to protect little Miranda. Ardeth directed his mind to what was ahead. . .it looked to be a long day.  
  
. . .  
  
//Mathayus? Whom is it, that they face? Why can the Med-jai not find this information, when they carry all of the ancient texts?// Anck asked, confused. The Scorpion King said nothing, as the drama began to unfold before them. He was aware, thanks to Ma'at, that Lady Ardath now knew of Anck's second chance. She was distressed by the deeds of her forever friend, and Mathayus had a decision of his own to make. Should Anck have knowledge of Ardath. . . or would it create a backlash?  
  
He did not have to decide now, he was told, for that could wait. Instead, he replied, //Because Anck, the information they require is not in any texts. . .but in the lost memories of their chieftain. The gods themselves wiped his memory of his past lives clean, to allow his soul to heal. He would not accept forgiveness for what his previous incarnations did, because he felt he did not deserve it. As to whom they face. . .//  
  
Mathayus hesitated. If he told her, then Anck would fail in her appointed task. The only way she would succeed was if she was able to look past the Med-jai tattoos, and see the true identity of Ardeth Bey. To see Rameses, who was once her friend. If Mathayus told her the rest, then. . .no. No, she had to learn it on her own. Instead, he continued, //They face something far more dangerous than your Imhotep or me, even. They face that which is darkest in the human soul, given form.//  
  
He sensed the approval of his new goddess, and continued, //There are evil spirits in the world, Anck, who would use the darkness in humanity for their own ends. These spirits do not always have names, and if they do, they are well hidden. They cannot be defeated by a mortal knowing their name, for their names hold no power. They are parasites. This is what your forever friend and Ardeth Bey face.//  
  
While Mathayus could not tell Anck everything, there was no rule against reminding her that regardless of her own hatred for the Med-jai, Ardeth Bey was Celia's best protection, her best hope for surviving what was about to happen. Anck glared at him, but Mathayus simply glared back, saying, //I speak the truth, woman! That warrior has sworn to protect her, with his own life, if need be!//  
  
Anck spun to face him, her long dark hair whipping about her face, as she fired back, //And I told you, Scorpion King. . .he cannot be trusted! He is Med-jai, and once before, the Med-jai failed to protect her. They who claimed to love her so much! They failed her, and so will he! Why do you do this, Scorpion King? Why do you insist on putting faith in a Med- jai, especially when he put such effort in destroying your army?//  
  
//NOT my army,// Mathayus was quick to point out, //the Army of Anubis. And I told you. I put faith in him because he is an honorable man. A man who rues the day the hom-dai was cast, and what it has meant for Egypt so many times. A man who understands that Hamadi Bey went too far. You are incapable of seeing the good in him, because he frightens you. Only you are not honest enough to admit it.//  
  
The sudden flash in Anck's eyes told Mathayus he nailed it. Ardeth Bey did, indeed, frighten Anck-su-namun. But why? He could do her no harm. . .she and Imhotep were both beyond the reach of. . .what was that? With a wave of his hand, Mathayus pinpointed the source of his distress, his dark eyes flickering as he watched two men suffocating a third as he slept. That was not what troubled him.  
  
Rather, it was the victim himself. As the two murderers pulled away the pillows they had used to smother the life from this man, Mathayus came to the horrifying conclusion that things were even more serious than he thought. He was not the only one who came to this conclusion. Anck reached out her hand to the dead man, and whispered, //He. . .he looks like Imhotep! His face. . .he looks like Imhotep!//  
  
//Indeed,// Mathayus said grimly, //and you will notice they smothered him to death. Anck-su-namun. . .they intend to raise your Imhotep from the Underworld, and use this body as a vessel. To do what, I know not. . .but you can be sure of this. Your forever friend is now in even greater danger than before. Ma'at has told me naught, but I believe these men are linked to the one now controlling Jason Ferguson.//  
  
//Niy!// Anck cried out, //niy! Imhotep would never hurt Ardath, he never had any reason to hate her!// Mathayus shook his head. . .that was true. But the stakes just went up, and he didn't know how to explain that to her.  
  
This third rising of Imhotep was no longer about the fulfillment of the hom-dai or even the raising of the Scorpion King and the Army of Anubis. Rather, this was an attempt for revenge everlasting. For three thousand years, Khaldun waited for a chance to avenge his brutal death, and the humiliation he suffered countless times during his lifetime. He would use Imhotep to do that, using Imhotep's own hatred of the Med-jai.  
  
Mathayus stared down at the sight below him, trying desperately to find a way to reach Anck-su-namun. In order to turn this catastrophe away, someone had to reach Imhotep. Had to make him see that it was in his best interest to denounce Khaldun, rather than to destroy the Med-jai. Anck-su- namun would have been his best hope, once upon a time. That was no longer so, and not simply because of her own hatred of the Med-jai.  
  
Rather, thanks to her betrayal at Ahm Shere, she lost all ground with Imhotep. He would never listen to Ardath, for he had no respect for her. Mathayus fought his panic, trying to concentrate on what he could do to help the mortals. He became lost, and now, sought redemption. If the Scorpion King, who killed so many after making his dark bargain, could remember what he was once. . .why could Imhotep not do the same?  
  
//I must find a way to reach them both,// Mathayus thought, //or it all ends. I cannot allow that to happen!// Even now, darkness was radiating out from Germany as good people fell under the sway of evil. . .an evil that would rot the world, if it was not stopped. There was only one way that he could see at the moment, and Mathayus did not want to allow it to go that far. If he did. . .there might not be a turning back.  
  
Ma'at whispered, //Find a way, if you can, my son. But know this. What you saw took place six mortal days ago and far beyond your power. You are only responsible for what you do, and what you do not do. You cannot change what has gone before, only what is to come. Do not ever forget that, my son.// There was a pause, then Ma'at continued, //But there are others whom can help you. They can listen to you, in their dreams.//  
  
In their dreams? Of course. The Med-jai, who still listened to the old voices. Mathayus steeled himself, then told Anck-su-namun, //Imhotep has no reason to hate Ardath. . .but because her reincarnation is allied with the Med-jai and the O'Connell family, there is also no reason to believe that he will spare her or her daughter. Nor is it particularly likely that he will listen to you, given your betrayal of him.//  
  
Anck swallowed hard, and Mathayus could hear what she was thinking. Her understanding that she could not help her friend's reincarnation. . .that Celia's best hope truly lay within the Med-jai. Mathayus continued, driving the point home, //And this new menace does hate your forever friend, Anck-su-namun. Hates her as much as you hate the Med-jai, and will do anything in his power to destroy her and make sure she can never be reborn again.//  
  
Mathayus froze as the words came out, not knowing where they came from. The same place as the next words, //You know, just as well as I do, that the Med-jai are not to blame for Ardath's murder, thirty centuries ago. The poison acted quickly, no one could have saved her.//  
  
Anck turned her face away, not wanting to hear what he had to say. Perhaps because she knew what he would say, and was not yet ready to face the truth. But he would not. He could not stop now. Mathayus continued, his voice icy, //No one. . .except for two people. The person who put the poison in her goblet. . .and the person who gave the goblet to Ardath. Is that it? You cannot bear the guilt of killing your best friend, so you make the Med-jai scapegoats?//  
  
Anck screamed with rage and attacked him. Because there was no coherence in her attack, no thought, Mathayus easily subdued her and spun her around to face the bazaar. He pinned her arms behind her back and hissed, //LOOK, damn you! Look upon the true face of your enemy, Anck-su- namun. Look upon the face of your enemy, and know once and for all, it is NOT the Med-jai!//  
  
. . .  
  
There was something very strange going on. Several times now, Jason tried to lead Celia to a particular stall, insisting that he had something to show her, something for Miranda. That alone was strange. Jason was never interested in buying things for Miranda or Celia. Each time, Celia started to answer. . .and each time, Rick O'Connell grabbed Jason by the collar and directed Celia's attention to something he thought she would like. That was scary, because O'Connell had a better idea of what she liked than her own brother.  
  
Miranda opted to go off with Jonathan, so she could find something nice for Celia and Evy, while Evy was on Rick's other side with Alex. Miranda seemed to have decided that she liked Jonathan almost as much as she liked Ardeth, though the little girl was stubbornly set on marrying Ardeth. Not that Celia was complaining about her daughter's taste in men. If, at four, she liked someone as worthwhile as Ardeth Bey, then she would likely be wiser than her mother.  
  
Still, that knowledge didn't distract her from her original sense. Something definitely was going on. Celia felt a tickle along the back of her neck, and she shifted. Rick asked softly, 'Are you okay?' She gave a half smile, deciding to keep her suspicions to herself, and Rick continued, 'I've been accused of being thick-headed, stubborn, and downright stupid, among other things over the years. . .but I'm not so stupid I don't know when someone is uncomfortable. What's wrong?' Celia studied his face for moment, then made her decision.  
  
'I have this. . .feeling that something is about to happen. Jason keeps trying to drag me off, under a pretext of showing me something that Miranda would like. Except, my brother doesn't even know what Miranda likes or dislikes. And I keep having the feeling that someone is watching me. . .but I can't tell you whether that someone is watching me, or watching *over* me,' Celia replied at last.  
  
Rick leaned in closer, gently maneuvering her until it looked like he was pointing out something to her, then said softly, 'Well, 'tween you, me, and the fencepost, I don't know *what* is about to happen. But I do know you should listen to that instinct of yours. There is someone watching over you. And if you'll pretend to look over at Evy, but look behind us, you'll see exactly who that someone is.'  
  
Celia very carefully did as Rick told her. . .to find Ardeth, whom she thought disappeared into the crowd once they reached the bazaar. Celia looked back at Rick, who continued, 'Ardeth got some information that something was gonna go down here, and he wanted the bad guys to think they won. Keep doing what you're doing, it makes it easier for Ardeth to look out for you. One other thing. Don't trust that brother of yours.'  
  
'Why are you doing this? No, not looking out for me, but. . .' Celia began. The simple fact was, Rick O'Connell presented something of a mystery to her. On the one hand, she was told that when a problem arose, Rick was the last one involved. . .and he was usually dragged into it, kicking and screaming the whole way. Evy told her that. . .and that if something went wrong, then Ardeth was the absolute first to get involved.  
  
And yet, over the last six days, ever since their confrontation, Celia noticed Rick watching her. Especially when she was with Ardeth, and his expression was best described as wary. Like he didn't entirely trust her. Rick said slowly, 'Over the last seven years, sometimes it seems like Ardeth has done his damnedest to make my life difficult.' Celia immediately started to protest, but Rick continued, 'The truth is, we've made his life difficult. And always. . . always, he turns out to be right. This time, we're gonna do things a little different, and see if we can't head off some trouble at the pass.'  
  
'And if we can't, what will you do?' Celia challenged. She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted the answer to be, or even if she wanted a particular answer. Rick picked up an item he had been studying for the last several moments, then smiled at her faintly. There was no warmth, though, which made Celia wonder about something else. She looked at the big man, asking softly, 'This isn't just about Jason, is it? This. . .you're making sure *I* can be trusted. Making sure that my intentions toward Ardeth Bey are honorable, so to speak.'  
  
'Well, if you wanna put it that way. . .yeah,' Rick admitted baldly, 'I've been watching Ardeth and you, like you said. And I know Ardeth is attracted to you. In all the years I've known him, Ardeth has never been drawn or attracted to any woman. Except maybe my wife, but he's too honorable to ever act on it. He's attracted to you. I wanna know. . .what are you gonna do about it, and do you feel the same?'  
  
Celia put down the trinket she was admiring and turned to face Rick O'Connell. She placed both hands on her hips and glared up at him, ignoring the fact that she was a foot shorter than he was. She was also a foot shorter than Ardeth, but that didn't prevent her from hurting him. Celia kept that in mind, because she felt herself starting to change that day. She said coolly, 'Mr. O'Connell. I will answer your first question and your first question only. And that is only because you're trying to protect your friend.  
  
'What will I do about Ardeth's attraction to me? Absolutely nothing, at least not right now. I just met him a week ago, and I'm not a fast woman. I may not be a lady, the way high society understands it, but I do have standards for my own behavior. And none of those standards include using a man's attraction to me, for any reason. Ardeth's a good man, that much I've decided. Beyond that, I don't know. The last time I was involved with a man, it ended up costing me what left of my reputation and even more than that. Do I think Ardeth will do that to me? No. But I'm not ready to take that chance.'  
  
She stepped closer to him, glaring up into his blue eyes, and added, 'As for your second question, whether I'm attracted to Ardeth or not. . .that's hardly any of your business. It does not pertain to you, therefore, you should not concern yourself with it. That's your modus operandi, is it not? If it does not pertain to you or Evy or Alex, then it's not your problem?' The blue eyes flashed and Celia smiled, saying, 'Don't cross me, Mr. O'Connell. I will fight back, and I have no problem with fighting dirty!'  
  
They stared at each other for a long moment, blue eyes meeting and appraising hazel. After a moment, Rick O'Connell nodded. . .and backed down. He said softly, 'Then we understand each other. I just. . .there's never been a time when Ardeth didn't come through for me. It's time for me to start watching his back, like I should have been all along. I just. . .I wanted to make sure you were strong enough to fight for him.'  
  
Celia held the man's eyes for a moment longer, herself assessing O'Connell, before she, too, stood down. She replied quietly, 'Then we shall discuss this no more.' The man nodded in agreement, and they began looking at trinkets once more. However, as is so often the case, things went awry. Celia was admiring a representation of Hathor when Rick noticed his wife arguing with one of the vendors, a frightened looking Alex at her side.  
  
'Stay here, I'll be right back. Jonathan is over by Ardeth, so he and Miranda will be fine. Try to stay out of trouble until I get back,' Rick muttered, giving her shoulder a quick pat. Celia gave him a glare in response, then checked the area around herself quickly. It was a habit she began, after her flight from Leslie's goons. At the same time, she once more noticed that Jason was fuming. What was going on?  
  
Someone seized her arm roughly and she jerked back, glaring at whoever was manhandling her. Jason. Dammit, what was going on here? Jason hissed, 'You never do what you're supposed to, Celia! This was supposed to be easy, but you can never make it easy on me! I'm trying to protect you, and you even have to make that hard. C'mon, let's go before O'Connell gets suspicious.'  
  
Before O'Connell gets suspicious? Celia's blood ran cold. Without meaning to, she looked over at the stall where the vendor continued to argue with Evy and Rick both, Alex looking more frightened by the moment. She saw the way the vendor looked over at Jason and nodded, ever so slightly. She whispered, 'You set this up, didn't you? Why? What's going on?' Jason pulled on her arm yet again, this time physically pulling away from the stall. Celia's mind raced as she tried to figure out what to do.  
  
Her eyes made contact with Ardeth's. His mouth thinned into a narrow line, his eyes narrowing at the same time. That was all she could do. In the middle of a Cairo market, her brother could simply tell everyone that she was a crazy woman, and no one would disbelieve him. The Med-jai were her best hope, and Ardeth was already coming this way. For one brief moment, relief washed through Celia.  
  
Then she saw the men closing in a circle around Ardeth. She screamed, 'ARDETH! LOOK OUT!' But in doing so, she forfeited her own chance for freedom. A strong arm locked around her throat from behind her, even as Ardeth whirled in a circle, seeing his opponents. A hand with a cloth came toward her face. Celia couldn't help it. She couldn't help breathing the sickly sweet odor, as she was struggling to breathe with the arm over her throat.  
  
Ardeth fought bravely and fiercely. He finished off two opponents and was in the process of finishing off a third. . .when a fourth attacked from behind. The very last thing Celia saw, before passing out, was that fourth man clubbing Ardeth Bey in the back of his head, and Ardeth crumpling to the ground bonelessly. And then Celia sank into oblivion, no longer seeing all hell break loose in front of her, nor did she hear angry shouts. There was nothing.  
  
. . .  
  
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. But right before his eyes, Jonathan saw the men ringing around Ardeth. He hesitated only a moment, looking down at Miranda. But Miranda was no longer there. . .rather, she was in the arms of a Med-jai. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Jonathan shot toward Ardeth, intending to reach his side. . .because Ardeth was the only one who could reach Celia in time.  
  
Rick was with Evy and Alex, drawn away from Celia's side to help Evy sort out some rot about Alex stealing something. There was no one to help Celia, and in this place, she couldn't save herself without help. Especially not when her arm was in the grip of her rotter little brother. Jonathan was almost at Ardeth's side when it happened. He watched Ardeth dispatch two of the men who circled around him and engage the third. . .but not a fourth, who appeared without warning. Jonathan watched in horror was a billy club swung at the back of his friend's head.  
  
At the same moment the club connected with the back of Ardeth's skull, Celia went limp in the arms of her captor, and she was borne away. Jonathan barely paid attention to that, however. His focus was primarily on Ardeth, now lying in crumpled heap in the street. And above him stood the man who knocked him unconscious, a savage grin of triumph now decorating his face. Jonathan didn't know what he planned to do to Ardeth, but he did know he wouldn't allow it happen. . .no matter what it was.  
  
He was helpless to protect Evy when that wench stabbed her. And true enough, he kept Anck-su-namun busy while Alex revived his mother, but that wasn't the point. He failed his sister. He failed Ardeth, after Jonathan made a promise not to allow any harm to come to the man. A broken promise. A shattered family, once more, only this time, before it even had a chance to become a family. //Not again! Never again!//  
  
With a wild cry of rage and fear, Jonathan barreled into the man, shoving him away from Ardeth. It was neither graceful, nor well-planned, but it was most assuredly determined. It was also successful. Jonathan almost tripped over Ardeth in the process, but the rotter was away from the unconscious Med-jai leader. But Jonathan wasn't satisfied with that. Enraged by this latest attack, the Englishman wrapped his hands around the attacker's throat and repeatedly bashed his head into the street.  
  
He would have killed him. Jonathan knew that. He would have killed him, without hesitation. But he found his fingers being physically pried from the man's throat, and he was being lifted away from the man who struck his friend. His arms were pinned to his side, restraining him, and a voice said, 'Enough! We need him alive! No more harm may come to Ardeth because of this piece of waste.'  
  
That wasn't what ended Jonathan's struggles. It was the look in the eyes of little Miranda Ferguson. It was the same look he saw in Alex's eyes at Ahm Shere, when Evy was stabbed. He stopped fighting the Med-jai, and was released. He held out his arms to Miranda, and she lunged for him, sobbing into his neck. All she could say was, 'They took Mommy, Mr. Jonathan! They took Mommy and they hurt Ardeth!'  
  
Ardeth. Jonathan turned to face his friend, who remained unconscious. How hard did that bastard hit him? The Med-jai who protected Miranda went to his unconscious leader, gently scooping Ardeth into his arms. Rick asked, his voice shaking with fury, 'What the hell just happened here?' The Med-jai didn't answer him. The man who restrained Jonathan stepped around, to help the other man carry Ardeth. For the first time, Jonathan realized there was one man missing. Rick repeated, 'Goddammit, I want answers! I. . .'  
  
'Silence, O'Connell! I am sure this is difficult for you to comprehend, but the world does not stop for your confusion, and I have not my chieftain's patience. Hanif, I have Ardeth. . .you take that pile of camel dung. Kaphiri has gone after the girl, but if we can get this one to talk, we need not wait for his signal,' the old man said, carefully cradling Ardeth against his chest. Hanif, the young one, nodded, and the old man continued, 'Mrs. O'Connell. We will retreat to your home. Is there a place, a room in your home which we can use as an interrogation room for when this pig comes around?'  
  
'Yes, there is. . .should someone contact Anatol? Oh. Never mind,' Evy said, looking a bit numb as the young Med-jai rushed to his brother's side. Jonathan didn't know where Anatol was, but judging from his expression, it was highly unlikely he knew about today's events. Probably for the best, since Anatol was a little hotheaded. Evy continued, 'Is there anything I can do to help? Should I go ahead?'  
  
'Yes, but not by much. Anatol, go with her. . .I have your brother,' the man replied. He added after a pause, 'Mrs. O'Connell, I know we have not been formally introduced. My name is Garai, but you once knew me as 'Sennefer.' Does that name sound familiar?' Evy frowned, then a strange expression crossed her face. As if she was struck by a faint wind. . .and when she opened her eyes, there wasn't just Evy there, but Nefertiri as well.  
  
'Sennefer. You were Ardath's Med-jai,' Evy whispered, switching to ancient Egyptian, and the Med-jai inclined his head. By all rights, Jonathan shouldn't have understood what she was saying. But it was as if that part of Nassor was listening and translating. Evy continued, 'Then come. I know you wish to make sure your mistress is safe. . .and we must make sure. . .' She stopped, shook her head, and switched back to English, 'We'll get Ardeth back to the house, then see what we can find out from that dreadful man about what they've done with Celia./  
  
They headed back to the house, Anatol and Evy walking slightly ahead, with Alex clinging to Evy's hand. At the same time, Miranda maintained her grip on Jonathan. Poor little thing was still crying, soft little whimpers that tore out Jonathan's heart. He was willing to bet nothing so terrible happened before to her, as seeing her mother kidnapped right in front of her eyes. He hugged her a little, wishing he could have done more.  
  
//I warned Ardath this would happen,// Jonathan thought despairingly, *I told her that I would fail Ardeth!// He stared at the back of his friend's head as Garai carried him toward the O'Connell house. Was he bleeding? Jonathan knew scalp wounds to bleed, but with Ardeth's black hair, it was hard to be sure. He smiled humorlessly, wondering if that was part of the reason Med-jai wore black. . .harder to tell bloodstains.  
  
As they walked, Garai explained, 'Ardeth knew that Jason Ferguson was a betrayer, and made plans accordingly. Ferguson's sister was to be used as bait, to trap Ardeth. Our chieftain decided to turn the tables on him. He knew there was a chance for an unknown factor to enter into the picture. . .for all we knew, Ferguson's new business associate might have had more men that we didn't know about. So, he planned for just that eventuality. If, for some reason, he was unable to reach Celia Ferguson in time, and she was captured, then Kaphiri would follow the kidnappers and send word back to us.'  
  
He stopped and looked back at Jonathan, saying quietly, 'You prevented them from capturing or killing our chieftain. You have our thanks for that.' Jonathan lowered his eyes. But he didn't get there in time, was unable to protect Ardeth properly. If Ardeth wasn't knocked unconscious, then he could have reached Celia in time. . .and the little girl cuddled against his chest would now be in her mother's arms. Because her mother would be safe, instead of headed for God only knew where!  
  
He looked up to see Rick's disbelieving expression, as his brother-in- law said, 'You. . . Ardeth told him what was going on? He told Jonathan, but not me? Hell, no wonder Ardeth's out cold! I swear to God, Jonathan, if anything happens to that girl. . .' He was abruptly silenced when Hanif dropped the man who attacked Ardeth, drew his scimitar, and held it to Rick's throat, his dark eyes flashing.  
  
'You will say nothing more, O'Connell! Garai has not Ardeth's patience, and I have not Garai's patience!' Hanif warned, his voice low and threatening. The young Med-jai continued, 'You will not dishonor my chieftain by calling him a fool. He told us that Jonathan Carnahan would not fail him, and he was right. My chieftain is unconscious. He is neither dead nor a captive. Your brother in law didn't fail my chieftain. . .you did!'  
  
Rick started to protest, but Evy swung around, eyes blazing, and exclaimed, 'That is enough! You'll do neither Ardeth nor Celia any good by brawling like a pair of ten year olds! Garai. . .you say Ardeth knew this was coming? Then he made a choice to trust my brother, a choice well made, Rick, because it's like the man said just a minute ago. Ardeth is neither dead nor a captive. He is unconscious, but he'll wake up. Once we get him to the house, we'll take care of whatever headache he has.'  
  
Hanif released Rick, smirking a little, hich died a quick death when Evy snapped, 'And as for you. . .Ardeth never told Rick what was going on, so how could Rick have failed him? You say you will not allow my husband to dishonor your chieftain, when you are doing just that with your behavior!' Jonathan watched his little sister give the young Med-jai a scolding he wasn't likely to ever forget.  
  
Hanif stared at Evy in shock, and it seemed likely that once he came *out* of his current state, he would have a few things to say. But Ardeth groaned very softly, and all eyes swung back to the still unconscious man. Garai looked determinedly at Hanif, then at their captive, and said only, 'House. Now.' Hanif picked up the captive once more, and the small party made their way toward the O'Connell house once more. But that didn't keep Lady Ardath from observing smugly, //I told you that you would not fail my child! Listen to me next time!// 


	9. Connections

Part Eight  
  
Once they got back to the house, Evy immediately took charge. At her request, Garai gently placed Ardeth on the davenport where he had slept the night before. There was a twofold reason for this. First and foremost, it was downstairs, and second, it would be easier for them all to remain in the sitting room once Ardeth did regain consciousness. They would need someplace to plan, after all.  
  
Hanif took the fourth attacker to the basement, Anatol trailing behind, after Evy pointed them in the right direction. At that point, Evy gently removed the still-sobbing Miranda from Jonathan's arms and told the little girl, 'I know you're scared, 'Randa. . .but I need your help. We need to take care of Ardeth, and just as soon as we know where those bad men took your mummy, we'll go after her. Can you help me take care of Ardeth?'  
  
The dark head nodded and Miranda whispered, 'Uncle Jason helped those bad men, Mrs. Evy. He helped them take Mommy and hurt Ardeth.' Evy couldn't help herself. She pulled the little girl in her arms once again, and felt the tiny body trembling. Miranda cried, 'I know it's bad, but I hate Uncle Jason, Mrs. Evy. I hate him!' Evy tightened her grasp, closing her eyes at the anger and grief and fear in the little girl's voice.  
  
'Yes, he did help those men, little Miranda. But you have my word, as a Med-jai, that we will find your mother," Garai said, kneeling beside them both. Miranda sniffled a little, pulling back to look at the man. Perhaps because she was around two Med-jai during the last week, Miranda showed absolutely no fear of this man. And maybe she was just too frightened by what she had seen earlier. Garai continued, 'Ardeth has told me much of you. When you complete the tasks which Mrs. O. . .which Mrs. Evy wants you to do, perhaps you would like to sit beside Ardeth? I think that will make him feel much better.'  
  
The little girl's eyes swung from the Med-jai to Evy questioningly and Evy said, 'Absolutely, you may! I think Garai is quite right, you can make Ardeth feel much better.' Because he'll feel terribly guilty about being unable to rescue your mother in time. Evy continued briskly, wiping away Miranda's tears with her thumbs, 'Now. Enough of this 'Mrs. Evy.' From now on, you are to call me 'Aunt Evy.' And since you're my one and only niece, I need you to find something for me.'  
  
Miranda nodded her agreement, and Evy continued, 'It is a basin. Alex knows what it looks like, he can help you. I'm afraid your uncle Rick misplaced it. But if anyone can find that, I have no doubt that you and Alex can. Will you do that for me?' Miranda nodded and Evy said with a smile, 'Very good. Alex, it should be somewhere in the kitchen. I'll take care of Ardeth, I promise, but he'll need that basin.'  
  
Alex took the little girl's hand and led her into the kitchen, both children shaken. Garai said softly, 'Familiar with head injuries, Mrs. O'Connell?' Evy looked first at her brother, then at her husband, then shifted her eyes back to Garai. The Med-jai laughed, his eyes filled with amusement at her unspoken jab, and continued, 'Yes, of course, I should have realized that myself. I apologize.'  
  
'You know whom she is, don't you? Celia?' Evy asked softly and Garai nodded. Evy continued, still in that low voice, 'And Ardeth?' Again, Garai nodded. It was on the tip of Evy's tongue, to ask him if he would tell her. But, looking at the old Med-jai, she realized he would not. Instead, she continued softly, 'I'll need some ice from the ice box for Ardeth's head. Get Rick to show you. . .he needs something to do right now.'  
  
Garai nodded his acceptance, and replied softly, 'We will tell your brother as many times as it takes that he did what Ardeth asked of him. Our chieftain is neither dead nor a captive. Hanif, what is it?' Evy looked up at the young Med-jai, who returned from the basement. He didn't look angry or frustrated, as Rick did when he wasn't getting the answers he needed or wanted. . .rather, he looked scared. Evy tensed for whatever the young man had to say.  
  
'Garai. . .I know why we only knew about the men with Jason Ferguson's associates. Because until his associates realized that we knew what was about to happen, those were the only ones!' Hanif said in Arabic. Either he forgot, or didn't care, that Evy could speak his language. Although, Evy wasn't terribly sure she understood him properly at the moment. The young man paused, then continued almost disjointedly, "The man downstairs, he is a vendor. When I asked him who hired him to attack our chieftain. . ."  
  
The young man stopped, taking several deep breaths, as if trying to marshal his thoughts. When he looked up again, he seemed calmer, but still upset. He explained, 'Until about five minutes before he attacked our chieftain, he was tending to his customers, and trying to find out what was going on. Then something happened to him. He can't describe what. And he remembers what happened, but as if it was a dream. There's one other thing.' The young man took a deep breath once more, and Evy realized for the first time how fast he was talking.  
  
Evy and Garai waited patiently, and Hanif explained, 'I asked him if he knew who took Celia Ferguson. He said a name. But Ardeth was right, it was not He Who Shall Not Be Named. It was another. Khaldun.' Kh. . .oh God. Evy looked up at Garai, to see if he recognized the name. He did. His eyes narrowed. Tremors passed through his tall, powerful frame, and Hanif added as an afterthought, 'Anatol is guarding him.'  
  
'Uh, guys. . .care to tell the rest of us what's going on?' Rick asked. Evy took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain things. The trouble was, she wasn't entirely sure she could. According to the stories Nefertiri heard toward the end of her life, Khaldun never suffered the hom-dai, but he could be just as dangerous as Imhotep himself.  
  
'Khaldun has risen once more. Once each lifetime, he rises once more, to take what he believes is rightfully his. This time, it's different, however. This time, he seeks to destroy the magic circle before it can be fully completed. He knows that the reincarnation of Rameses does not remember the past, and for that reason, it is time for Rameses and Ardath to be reunited. He cannot allow this to happen,' Garai answered.  
  
'And Celia Ferguson is Lady Ardath reborn,' Rick completed grimly. Evy nodded, realizing that was exactly what happened. Rick said after a moment, 'Right. So, what happens if he gets his hands on Celia and or Lady Ardath? The end of the world as we know it? Imhotep rises again? Maybe the Scorpion King?' Evy glared at her husband. This was no time to be making jokes! Celia *needed* them!  
  
'It does not matter. . .he can no longer harm her, for she has already been reunited with Rameses. And Khaldun will not receive the opportunity to harm her,' Garai added grimly. He looked at Evy, adding, 'I failed her once, princess. I will not fail her again. Hanif, get back downstairs. Find out what you can. Tell him. . .tell him that the young woman who was kidnapped today is the reincarnation of a Med-jai princess.'  
  
'But she isn't,' Rick protested, 'Lady Ardath was a royal concubine, not a Med-jai! Wait a minute. You just said that Rameses and Lady Ardath have already been reunited in this life time, or rather, their reincarnations have been.' But Evy's mind was hurtling again. The reincarnation of Rameses does not remember the past. . .does not remember his past life. And there was only one person she knew of, whom Celia met, who fit that description.  
  
'Oh my God,' she whispered, her eyes sliding from Garai to the still figure on the davenport, 'It's Ardeth, isn't it? Ardeth is Rameses reborn!' Garai nodded, and the last pieces fell into place. All this time, she thought Nefertiri's brother would have been reborn as Evy's brother. And he was. But family was not just forged by blood, something Evy forgot. Rameses was not reborn as her brother by blood. . .but her brother by choice.  
  
'Yes, but I must ask that you not tell him. He must remember on his own, when he is ready,' Garai replied. He paused, then added with a mischievous grin, 'Oh, and O'Connell? You are quite right. Lady Ardath was not a princess. But the man downstairs does not know that!' Evy laughed, both at Garai's words and Rick's expression. Now that was one sneaky Med-jai!  
  
. . .  
  
It played in his mind like a movie on the screen. The Med-jai enjoyed the movies. Enjoyed the dark, the anonymity. Enjoyed the escape for a time. But this was one movie no one would want to see. Watching Jason Ferguson put his hand on his sister, physically pulling her away when O'Connell went to Evelyn and Alex. Himself, striding forward, moving through the crowd as Celia fought her brother's grip.  
  
And then her scream, 'ARDETH! LOOK OUT!' Ardeth spun in a circle, finding himself in a fight for his life as three men attacked him. For a brief, dizzying moment, Ardeth felt like he was back in the O'Connell home in London, fighting Lock-nah's men once again. He dispatched the first two with one swipe, then faced the third. . .until pain exploded through his head. He was only vaguely aware of falling, of screams around him. . .the only real things to him were the pain and the knowledge he failed Celia Ferguson.  
  
He failed her, and as punishment for that failure, her face was the last thing Ardeth saw as he lost consciousness. He saw the cloth pressed against her nose and mouth, her hazel eyes rolling up in her head even as her eyelids started to close. He saw her body slumping against her captor. All of this he saw from the ground, through a curtain of dark hair which became solid. And in that blackness, he remained, seeing her face over and over again, until pain once more made itself known.  
  
Pain, and voices. And cold. So cold. Ardeth followed that trail, fighting his pain all the way. He failed Celia. He sworn to protect her, had told her that no harm would come to her, and he failed her. He failed her, and now he would make that right. To do that, he had to wake up. A gentle hand was caressing his hair, easing the pain at the same time, giving him something other than the pain to focus on. Celia did that.  
  
Celia. Pain once more lanced through him, only it wasn't through his head this time, but through his heart. He remembered her small but wiry body supporting his own, after he startled her so badly and paid the price, her fingers kneading his shoulder through his tunic. Shielding him. . .protecting him, with her words, if not her body, and he failed to protect her. He couldn't fail her a second time. And so, Ardeth pushed his way toward the pain, toward the hand, toward the voices, toward the cold. . .  
  
To find himself lying on his back, the back of his neck and head supported by several pillows, as well as something very, very cold. He blinked his eyes, to find Evy sitting beside him. She smiled, saying softly, 'Welcome back, we were starting to worry about you. Shhh, gentle, gentle.' She wasn't talking to him, however, but to the owner of the hand on his hair. For the first time, it registered with Ardeth that the hand was rather small.  
  
Evy held out her free hand, the one that wasn't resting on his arm, and Miranda Ferguson came into Ardeth's line of sight. Her face was tear- stained, but she smiled for him. He whispered, 'I am sorry, little one.' Miranda frowned a little, confused, and looked at Evy. Ardeth added, cringing as any motion sent stabbing pains through his head, 'I failed to protect your mother, I allowed her to be taken.' And surprisingly, there was no censure in that small face. She saw her mother kidnapped, no doubt, but. . .  
  
'But it wasn't your fault, Ardeth. . .you were hurt,' Miranda replied, tracing one of the tattoos on his forehead. She smiled then, her finger sliding down his face to the tattoo on his right cheek, and said, 'Besides. You'll get her back.' Such simple faith in that statement. Ardeth tentatively reached one hand to her face, then carefully moved it back to his own, so that his hand covered hers.  
  
There was only one appropriate answer to such faith, even in the presence of his failure. He whispered, 'Yes, little one, I will get her back and bring her back to you. Evelyn, has word come yet from Kaphiri?' She shook her head as a figure moved into Ardeth's line of sight. Garai. The older man settled down in front of Ardeth, putting one large hand on Miranda's small shoulder, his face filled with concern.  
  
'No word has come back from Kaphiri as yet, but we know where they're heading. Jonathan helped us to capture the fourth man, the one who attacked you. It was mind control, but it is not He Who Shall Not Be Named,' Garai answered. Ardeth closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his free hand over his temples. A fourth man, and he was driven to attack because of mind control. Before or after Celia was snatched?  
  
Before he could further work that out in his mind, a loud voice boomed through the room, 'Well, good morning, Sunshine!' The volume sent fresh pangs of pain through his head, and this time, it was accompanied by nausea. Garai must have seen something, for he pulled Miranda away from Ardeth, at the same time Evy dove for something on the floor. Garai got there first, and Evelyn supported Ardeth as he rolled to his side.  
  
'Rick, you made him sick, you can go get him a wet cloth for his face. Alex, take Miranda into the other room. She doesn't need to see this, and Ardeth doesn't need an audience,' Evelyn snapped out as Ardeth lost what little he ate that day. Her voice gentled as she pulled Ardeth's hair back from his face, 'Shhh, it's alright, Ardeth, I have you. Jonathan, cover him up with the blanket, he's shivering.'  
  
He was shivering and burning up at the same time, sick, his head was pounding, and he was utterly miserable. But at least only a few were around to see it, preserving what little remained of Ardeth's dignity. A half second later, he felt something warm covering him, and Jonathan said, 'There you are, old chap. Better? Rick, do be silent, you're making him sick.'  
  
Though his words for his brother in law were harsh, Jonathan's voice was pitched low and gentle. Ardeth felt some of the coldness leave him, along with some of the tension, though perhaps some of that had to do with Evy's gentle hand on the back of his neck. Jonathan continued, addressing his next remarks to Garai, 'Hanif said to tell you they're almost ready. Hanif convinced Anatol to remain downstairs for now.'  
  
'Good. Mr. O'Connell, give the wash rag to your wife, then take care of this. Ardeth, are you seeing well?' Garai asked. Ardeth opened his eyes and focused on Garai. The other man smiled and said, 'Good. Do you feel strong enough to travel? I have been discussing this with O'Connell, and we know which barge the kidnappers have taken. We can rescue her. . .'  
  
Ardeth was already shaking his head. It hurt like hell, but he had to stop this before it started. He replied, 'I can travel, but we cannot rescue her on the boat.' His companions started to argue, but Ardeth repeated more vehemently, 'NO! Have you forgotten the last time we attempted a recovery on a boat?' Again, his companions started to argue. . .and despite the raging pain in his head, Ardeth repeated even more forcefully, 'NO! The last time we attempted a recovery on the Nile, things ended in disaster!'  
  
He dropped his head once more, closing his eyes, and smiled faintly as Evy brushed the cloth gently over his face, saying, 'But Ardeth. . .this time we're on *your* side.' There was a silence, then she said, 'But you're right, of course. We'll have a better chance of rescue on the docks or in the open desert. Just rest for now, we're still getting things organized, and you'll need all of your energy when we rescue Celia.'  
  
'We? What we?' O'Connell asked as he came back into the house with an empty basin. Ardeth just closed his eyes. As Celia would have said if she was here, here we go again. Celia. When did she say that? Oh, now he remembered. The day before yesterday, when O'Connell and Jonathan got into yet another one of their squabbles. O'Connell added, as if hit by several glares at once, 'I. . .I just meant that Evy isn't going with us.'  
  
'Oh yes, she is, Rick O'Connell, and don't even think about leaving me behind!' Evelyn hissed. O'Connell started to speak once more, and Ardeth was on the verge of opening his eyes to tell his old friend to put a cork in his mouth. However, Evelyn wasn't finished. She said, 'I'm just as responsible for what happened to Celia as anyone. . .if I handled things better with that vendor, then Celia wouldn't have been taken and Ardeth wouldn't have been hurt. Now hush. Start packing our bags. . .I need to see to Ardeth.'  
  
And that, as they said, was that. Ardeth opened his eyes wearily as O'Connell closed his mouth with a snap. Then he strode from the room, pausing just long enough to put his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, before he headed upstairs. Evelyn continued, looking at Garai, 'Get what you need. If I remember, this will be a bit of a journey, and Ardeth can rest while you and the others are gathering information.'  
  
'And you'll take care of our chieftain. . .though, perhaps it's best if you show me where everything is. Your brother can take care of Ardeth, can he not?' Garai asked. Ardeth frowned, and then realized that Garai was looking past him, at Jonathan. Evelyn most likely realized the same, for she gave his hand a gentle pat, then led Garai into the kitchen. Jonathan circled around the back of the davenport to sit in front of Ardeth, and the chieftain realized there was unfinished business.  
  
. . .  
  
'Thank you, my friend.'  
  
Those words, despite his conversations with the Med-jai while they were waiting for Ardeth to wake up, were the last things Jonathan Carnahan expected to hear. Jonathan looked up as the other man gently touched his hand, and the Englishman reached forward, seeing Ardeth's grimace of pain. He eased him back against the cushions, saying softly, 'If I'd done something else, done things better. . .I could have prevented you from being knocked unconscious at all.'  
  
'What else could you do?' Ardeth asked very softly, his dark eyes filled with a wisdom far greater than his years or Jonathan's put together. Ardeth lay back, sighing, 'There was nothing more you could have done, my friend. I am alive. I am still here. You did what I asked, you can ask no more of yourself. What else could you do?' Jonathan had an answer for him, though.  
  
'I could have trusted Garai to make sure Miranda was safe, and gone the second I saw that fourth man approach you. I could have yelled out a warning, like. . .like that poor girl did. I'm not like you, Ardeth, I'm not cut out for this hero business,' Jonathan said, shaking his head. Ardeth closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. His face was very pale, and Jonathan asked a bit nervously, glancing around for the basin, 'You don't feel sick, do you?'  
  
'La. My head hurts,' came the simple reply. There was another sigh, then Ardeth continued, 'I am not a hero, Jonathan. I have never claimed to be. I am just a man, a man who has made many, many mistakes. I failed Celia. I promised her that I would allow no more harm to come to her. Now she has been kidnapped, because I failed to take all the players into account. I can only hope that mistake will not result in her death.'  
  
'How could you have known about the fourth man? Ardeth, old man, it's all well and good for you to look at every angle known to men, gods, and mummies. . .but this is not your fault! You had no way of knowing that this Khaldun fellow would exert his mind control over one of the other vendors and have that man attack you from behind!' Jonathan retorted. He was so intent on proving to his friend that he didn't fail Celia, he totally missed that he mentioned the unmentionable. . .Khaldun's name.  
  
'Khaldun. . .did you say Khaldun?' Ardeth asked, sounding as if he was afraid he was hearing things. Jonathan hung his head, but nodded. Ardeth muttered something under his breath, half in Arabic and half in ancient Egyptian, then groaned. Jonathan looked up quickly to see that Ardeth was squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Jonathan grasped the hand still on his wrist, giving Ardeth a lifeline of sorts.  
  
'I'm sorry, old chap. . .I didn't mean to spring this on you like that. But yes. Garai thinks he's back to keep Lady Ardath's reincarnation from finding Rameses. I don't entirely understand why it's so important to keep them apart, but there you are,' Jonathan replied. He mentioned the unmentionable, but he didn't tell Ardeth the full truth, that he was Rameses reborn. However, that didn't mean he couldn't tell him the other part of this. . .  
  
'Rameses made a promise as he killed Khaldun, according to our records. He told Khaldun that he knew he was no longer worthy of his concubine or their child, but when he was redeemed, he and Lady Ardath would reunite. They were always stronger together than when they were separate, always stronger and more complete. Khaldun is afraid of them. Did Garai tell you who Khaldun was?' Ardeth asked, opening his eyes.  
  
'A cousin of Rameses, so the story goes. Evy did a little research when she started having more of her dreams. Khaldun poisoned the wine at a celebration for the birth of Rameses and Lady Ardath's son. . .but instead of the intended victim, Rameses, Lady Ardath died. . .in his arms. Rameses went mad with grief and tortured Khaldun to death after the fool mocked him for the death of his concubine,' Jonathan related the story.  
  
'Aywa. What I do not understand is why they would kidnap Celia, in order to prevent this reunion between Rameses and Ardath. Especially since Khaldun's minion told Jason Ferguson that they would use me as ransom, to get Hamunaptra. . .unless that was just a smokescreen. Jonathan? Is Evelyn certain that Celia is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath?' the chieftain asked, frowning anxiously. Oh, wonderful. . .just wonderful!  
  
However, he couldn't lie to Ardeth. . .that was simply not possible. Instead, Jonathan said quietly, 'Yes, Ardeth, she is. Garai and Evy both recognized her. Garai told me that he was Sennefer, Ardath's Med-jai during that lifetime." The chieftain went very pale, though Jonathan had a hard time believing that was even possible. What was worse was, he knew the rest of it. How Rameses swore that he would love Ardath through all the lifetimes to come. . .and Ardeth didn't remember being Rameses.  
  
'Celia was Lady Ardath. And now they have her. Jonathan, we cannot allow them to reach Hamunaptra, or Thebes. Do you understand me? Hamunaptra is where Rameses took Khaldun when he learned the truth about the murder of his beloved, where he tortured and killed him. Khaldun needs a host body, if he has not been reborn, or if he has been killed already in this life,' Ardeth said urgently.  
  
Jonathan was missing something. Ardeth groaned again, covering his eyes with one hand, and muttered in a combination of Arabic and ancient Egyptian once more. After a moment, he removed his hand and looked at Jonathan with wide, pleading eyes, saying, 'Listen to me. This is very important. If Khaldun receives his host body, then he will take revenge on Rameses by harming Lady Ardath. . .Celia.'  
  
It took a moment for Ardeth's meaning to penetrate Jonathan's brain. Take revenge. Take her. Jonathan looked back at Ardeth, and the chieftain slowly nodded. Carnahan thought very briefly if this was like Imhotep or the Scorpion King rising, but Ardeth wasn't finished. He went on, 'Once Khaldun carries out his revenge, a young woman's life will be shattered and the rest of the world will follow. Each time he causes more pain, he will grow stronger.'  
  
Now this was starting to sound familiar, and different at the same time. Ardeth pushed himself onto his side, his dark eyes burning with fear and rage and guilt. He collapsed back against the back of the davenport, continuing, 'This. . .thing that he joined with. . .it feeds on pain. Celia's pain, as well as the pain of everyone who cares for her. Do you understand what I am saying? The Creature. . .the Med-jai helped to make him, and that is why we perform our task. But he was a man once, a good man who went bad. Khaldun was someone altogether different. He opened his soul, gladly, to this spirit. The Creature did evil in the name of love. Khaldun did evil out of hate. Do you see?'  
  
'So," Jonathan said, his voice unsteady, "we aren't just fighting Khaldun. . .but this spirit as well? And just the fact that a nice girl with a little daughter will be raped if we don't get to her in time is reason enough to stop this thing?' Ardeth nodded wearily and Jonathan said, 'All right then. You get some rest. Celia will need you to be strong.' //Because, old chum, Khaldun is only one of our worries right now.//  
  
But Ardeth wasn't finished. He said softly, 'She has been violated once, Jonathan. By that pitiful excuse for a man, the one who pretended to wed her. I'll not allow her to be violated again.' Despite his obvious pain, determination shone from Ardeth's eyes, and Jonathan's breath froze in his throat. He knew, without any doubts at all, that Ardeth Bey would rescue Celia before Khaldun or her brother had a chance to harm her. Or he would die trying.  
  
. . .  
  
'You're not going.' The words were spoken flatly, without any emotion, but the blue eyes which accompanied the mouth were anything but emotionless. They were flashing with rage. Not that the second person in the room was paying much attention. There were too many things to be done, and too little time in which to do them.  
  
'I am, Richard O'Connell. You will need me! Celia will need me, and I'm not about to let her down,' Evy retorted, throwing her clothes into her bag determinedly. A part of her brain ruefully observed that it was a complete turnaround of one of their earlier fights. Only then, he was trying to pack for her and get her out of Egypt, after Imhotep's first rising, as she was equally determined to stay. Garai had their supplies together, now she had to pack.  
  
'Honey, listen. . .the fewer people involved, the better chance we'll have of rescuing her. You don't want Ardeth worrying about you, do you? And you know he will,' Rick said, stopping what he was doing to put his hands on her shoulders. Evy gritted her teeth. Oh, this was an all-new low for him. . .using Ardeth! She glowered up at him, trembling with frustration and worry. Over the last week, the bonds forged in their letters between Celia and Evy only strengthened. The truth was, Celia was Evy's only female friend.  
  
And if he wanted to use Ardeth as a pawn piece. . .by all means, she could do the same! Evy answered defiantly, 'Someone has to take care of Ardeth. He will get all caught up in trying to make sure they get all the information they need about the men who have Celia, and he'll forget to take care of himself. And you men won't bother to do it, so he'll push himself until he collapses. . .and then he'll be no good to Celia at all.'  
  
Ha! A point in her favor. She could see from Rick's face that he knew she was right. Evy cupped his face in her hands, saying softly, 'Rick, I will stay out of the way when you and Ardeth rescue Celia. I will stay at a base camp you set up. But I have to go. I owe it to Ardeth, and I owe it to Celia. Rick. . .I just found out that man is the reincarnation of my brother. I did not do a very good job of taking care of him in our previous lifetime. I want to be a better sister to him this time around.' Rick looked away from her for a moment.  
  
Evy was having none of that, and forced him to look at her. Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell was never a woman who ran and hid from the consequences of her actions, and she wouldn't start now. Rick sighed, 'I just don't want lose you again. Either of you. Any of you. Everything is happening so damn fast, just like always. It's only been a few months, Evy. I almost lost everyone I love just a few months ago, and now it's at risk again.'  
  
The Englishwoman removed her hands from her husband's face and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down until their lips were almost touching. She said very quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, 'I swear to you, on both the Book of the Living and the Dead, that I will not put myself in harms way. I will not take any chances with my life. But I must see this through, Rick! So many times, you've told Ardeth 'leave us out of this,' even when we were already in it. No more running, Rick. We cannot change whom or what we are.'  
  
She looked deep into Rick's eyes, willing him to understand. Her husband sighed, dropping his head onto her shoulder, and whispered, 'Everything is happening too fast, Evy. I just remembered which Med-jai I was, all those years ago. Everything that happened. And now I find out that Ardeth Bey, one of the strongest, most level-headed men I've ever known, was a homicidal maniac. That's hell getting used to, and I don't know if I can!' Evy smiled ruefully, kissing the side of his neck.  
  
'But that's just it, honey. You aren't Terumun. . .you're his reincarnation. I'm not Nefertiri. There was almost no interaction between her and Lady Ardath. . .but you've seen that change in this life. And Ardeth isn't Rameses. He's stronger and smarter, wiser and even more noble. Rameses wasn't a bad man, just one who lost his way. And the times are different. Do you really think Rameses would have let us live after raising Imhotep the first time?' she asked.  
  
That won her a laugh, as they both knew Rameses would have killed them both before Imhotep was even raised. Maybe Ardeth should have done just that, but Evy was grateful that he did not. Not just for herself and Rick, for Jonathan. . .but also for Alex, who would have grown up without parents if she and Rick died before they even returned to England to claim him. And for Ardeth himself, who already had too much guilt to carry. And with that knowledge, insight exploded through her soul.  
  
Dear heaven. That was why he didn't remember, why his memories was denied to him so far! Ardeth managed to find a balance between his duty as the Med-jai leader and the demands of being a human being. . .but if he remembered, right now, about being Rameses, that balance would be tipped. Now, more than ever, Evy knew that Ardeth needed them all. With that in mind, she said softly, 'Ardeth is still my brother, Rick, just in a different way. I must stand at my brother's side and I want you there with me.'  
  
Rick pulled back to look at her, his blue eyes intent on her face. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, and Evy was afraid she lost. Then he smiled at her, the same smile which made such a dent in her heart all those years ago. He whispered, 'All right, baby. God knows, I care about the jerk, though sometimes I can't figure out why.' Evy swatted him, though she knew he didn't really mean it.  
  
'You care about him, Richard, because he is the best friend you've ever had. He is always there when you needed him, no matter how hard you push him away. And I happen to know he means as much to you as he does to me, to Alex, and to Jonathan. So none of that American tough-guy act, because it's not necessary and it doesn't impress me,' Evy said determinedly. She didn't ask that he acknowledge these things to Ardeth. . .she knew how men were about such things. . .but he could not run from her.  
  
'What do you want me to do, Evy, say I love the guy?' Rick asked with mock-exasperation. Evy just glared at him, and her husband sighed, 'Okay. He is my best friend. He is the brother I never had and always wanted. Do you want me to say anything more, or can I stop before I make myself sick?' Evy responded by kissing him, silently glad that neither Jonathan nor Alex were around.  
  
'You don't have to say the words out loud. . .just to yourself,' she whispered once she broke the kiss. She gazed at him for several moments, then added, 'I'll say those words for both of us. I love Ardeth Bey very much. . .he is a member of our family. And he needs us. So. . .if you're quite finished ravishing me. . .I need to finish packing.' Rick's eyebrows arched at the 'ravishing' part. . .and as she hoped, he decided to take her up on her offer.  
  
'Well,' he murmured, lowering her to the bed and nudging the suitcase out of the way, 'you know we won't be leaving for a while. Gotta get all the supplies together. . .Anatol went to find Kaphiri, since he can't beat up the guy who hit Ardeth. Figure we have some free time.' Evy made an inquiring sound in the back of her throat as Rick kissed her. As she told him before the bottom fell out of their worlds. . .he really could make her feel like agreeing to anything when he kissed her. Especially like that!  
  
And like always. . .it didn't last. There was a knock at the door, and through the heavy wood, Evy heard, 'Aunt Evy? Aunt Evy?' Evy and Rick looked at each other, and groaned in unison. But Rick released his wife, bending to pick up the suitcase, while Evy went to the bedroom door, to find a very frightened-looking Miranda there. The little girl practically threw herself into Evy's arms, and the Englishwoman silently cursed herself for not thinking about how terrified Miranda must be.  
  
She held the little girl tightly, whispering, 'It's all right, little love. . .come. Let's get your things packed, and a few of your mum's things, too. She'll be very dirty and in need of some fresh clothes when we find her, so let's make sure she has everything she needs. Alex, help your father if you please. Is your Uncle Jon still downstairs with Ardeth?' Her son nodded, looking worried. Evy started to head to Celia's room, but put her hand on Alex's shoulder, adding, softly, 'Don't be afraid, Alex. We won't let anyone hurt Celia.'  
  
The little boy managed to summon a smile, and Evy smiled back at him, then took Miranda into the room she shared with her mother. Miranda whispered, 'I'm scared, Aunt Evy. Uncle Jason scares me, and he helped those bad men take Mommy. Why would he do that, Aunt Evy? Mommy's his big sister, he's not supposed to hurt her!' Evy sat down on the bed with the little girl, gently kissing the top of her head.  
  
'I don't know, angel. But I do know one thing. When your uncle did that, he made Ardeth very, very angry. And because of that, Ardeth will make sure that we get your mum back, safe and sound. I promise you this. And 'Randa? When we get things packed for you and your mum, do you think you can do me a favor?' Evy asked, wiping away the little girl's tears. Miranda nodded, and Evy continued, 'Could you go downstairs, and tell Ardeth that this isn't his fault? He can be very silly sometimes about blaming himself. . .and now is one of those times.'  
  
The little girl nodded, adding earnestly, 'I like Ardeth, Aunt Evy. He's pretty, and he makes me feel safe.' Evy smiled at that, giving the little girl another hug. She thought back on everything that happened during the last week. She knew that her two friends were the reincarnations of Rameses and Ardath. She saw the beginnings of an attraction between them, long before she learned the truth about them. She had to have faith that their story would have a different, happier ending in this lifetime. She had to believe that.  
  
. . .  
  
She was floating in a place without pain, a pool of air. Ever so often, she would float to the top of the pool of air, to hear voices. A few she recognized, but others she could not. If she concentrated really and truly hard, she could make out words, '. . .will remain sedated for the duration. For everyone's sake, Mr. Ferguson.' Ferguson. That was her last name. . .wasn't it? Who was she? Was she Celia Ferguson, or was she Lady Ardath?  
  
She thought she was Celia, but she couldn't be sure. Yes. She was Celia. . .and Jason had betrayed her. A dull pain echoed through her heart as she dimly remembered the events in the bazaar. And seeing Ardeth collapse after being struck from behind, as if he was a puppet whose strings were cut. Jason betrayed her and aided in her kidnapping. Was Miranda safe?  
  
A voice whispered, 'Your daughter is safe, child, and soon enough, you will be too. Rest, dear girl. . .you will have need of your strength.' Celia floated back into the pool of air, this pool of oblivion. There was no pain here, save the pain in her heart from her brother's betrayal and her fear. Not just for her daughter, but for Ardeth Bey as well. She grew to like him very much over the last few days.  
  
'Yes, sweet girl. . .think about Ardeth. He is a very good man, isn't he?' the voice crooned, and Celia could have sworn someone was stroking her hair. The voice sounded like her grandmother's voice. The voice laughed gently and said, 'Of course it's me, silly girl. Didn't I tell you that I would always be here with you? That I would never leave you? I am here now, Cecelia, and will be until Ardeth comes for you.'  
  
//Ardeth will come for me?// Of course he will. . .how foolish of her to think he would do anything else! He swore to her that he would protect her. . .only the cowardly attack prevented him from honoring that vow. That would make him angry. One thing Celia learned about Ardeth. . .he took it very hard when something kept him from honoring his word. When he couldn't keep his promise.  
  
Celia took comfort from that. It was so strange. . .this knowledge that there was a man she could rely upon. Celia hadn't relied upon any man since her grandfather died. It made her a little uneasy. . .what if Ardeth died? Just when she learned to truly trust him, in a way she never trusted any man. . .not even Leslie Carstairs. Ardeth would never willingly break a promise he made. . .but he was only flesh and blood. There were some promises that could not be kept. He was mortal. . .he could die.  
  
She didn't like to think about Ardeth dying. He was a good man. . .such a good man. Was it any wonder that she felt drawn to him? He was one of the best, most honorable men she ever met. He made her daughter feel safe. . .he made Celia feel safe. And he was beautiful. He was so beautiful. She didn't usually allow herself to notice men's looks, since looks *were* deceiving, but he was so. . .he was Med-jai. He was Ardeth. And the tattoos adorning his forehead and high cheekbones only enhanced his beauty.  
  
Rick O'Connell asked her if she was attracted to Ardeth. What a silly question. Of course she was. Celia smiled dimly, remembering something which happened on her third full day in Egypt. She and Evy were taking a break from their own work, and Evy suggested that she take some refreshment out to the men. The two children were both napping (against Alex's will, though Miranda was so worn out from her lessons with Anatol, she didn't protest much).  
  
The men were wrestling. . .being men. She liked to watch them, though, liked to watch the honesty that was inherent in the Med-jai. Ardeth was leaning against the side of the house, calling out things in Arabic. The tone of his voice and his laughter told her that he was probably teasing his men, including the old man who looked at her so strangely. The young chieftain looked up and saw her approaching with the plate of drinks. . .and he smiled at her. For Celia, it was like someone zapped with a freeze ray from Buck Rogers or something. Fortunately, Rick came along right then and rescued the drinks before she dropped them.  
  
The match broke up and Celia just stared at Ardeth, who smiled at her once last time before heading over to get his own glass of. . .what was it? Tea? She couldn't remember. Evy came out onto the patio and slipped her arm around Celia's waist, asking her if everything was all right. Celia turned to her with what Evy later described as a goofy smile, and replied, 'He smiled at me. Ardeth smiled at me.'  
  
Evy smiled then, saying, 'Ahhh. . .so that's it. You've been hit with one of those devastating smiles of his. That would leave any woman with addled wits. Come along, you, we have work to do.' Still with her arm around Celia's waist, Evy led her back inside. . .and a good thing. Celia probably would have spent the rest of the day, totally stunned by the power of Ardeth Bey's smile. Especially when it was directed at her.  
  
Yes, of course she was attracted to Ardeth. O'Connell really was a foolish man. But just because she was attracted to him. . .it didn't mean he was attracted to her. Well, O'Connell said Ardeth was attracted to her, but she just decided that O'Connell was a silly, foolish man, so she wasn't terribly sure if she could trust him. Especially where Ardeth was concerned. Celia was more willing to listen to Evy's thoughts on the subject.  
  
Evy was a woman. . .she paid attention to these things. And Celia knew how much her friend cared for the tall, handsome warrior. According to that Med-jai who kept staring at her, Evy saved Ardeth's life once. Celia thought about the Med-jai who kept staring at her. He seemed so familiar to her, but she couldn't remember seeing him in any of her dreams. . .visions or whatever they were. Memories, according to Evy.  
  
And as if by magic, one of those dreams. . .visions. . .memories. . .floated into her mind. Her grandmother whispered, 'Watch and learn, my darling child.' Celia directed her full attention to the scene below her, looking in the direction which her grandmother indicated to her. She saw the young girl from before, the one whom Anck called 'Ardath,' as well as Anck herself. Only this time, for reasons which Celia didn't fully understand. . .the young American saw a bright string extending from her own chest and finding its end in Ardath's chest.  
  
'That is what connects you to her. . .and to hundreds of other girls through the centuries. It is your spirit. Evy O'Connell was right. . .you *are* the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. And this is why you have been taken, my darling girl. Those fools thought they were making things easier on themselves by sedating you to the point of unconsciousness, but they have only strengthened you. Because of that sedation, I can reach you. . .and show you the truth,' Grandmother said.  
  
Celia shivered, feeling the truth in her grandmother's words as the walls around her heart and memory crumbled. She looked at her grandmother, not really surprised to have the old woman by her side. Annabelle continued, 'Imhotep triggered Evy's memories as well, when he called the soul of Anck-su-namun back from the Underworld. Your unconscious state achieves the same goal, but unlike that poor foolish Meela, you will not be displaced within your own body. Watch, my dearest child. Watch, so you can be strong. Do not fight what you see, for there will be the source of your greatest strength.'  
  
Celia watched as Anck and Ardath made their way through a sun-lit corridor, laughing and making plans. She watched as Anck glared at anyone who even looked at her friend wrong, and couldn't help smiling at Anck's fierce protectiveness of her friend. These two girls loved one another, and Celia felt an ache of a familiar loneliness well up. She could see Ardath's face very clearly now. . .it was like seeing a fifteen year old version of herself.  
  
She truly was Lady Ardath, a woman who had seemed like something out of an old myth or legend. But this young girl was flesh and blood, with a best friend who dearly loved her. And, Celia discovered rather quickly, a temper all her own. A cry of pain drew Ardath's attention, and Celia inhaled sharply at the sight that met Ardath's eyes. A small boy, no more than five or six, cowered away from a man.  
  
Ardath darted away from Anck, her face tightening with fury, and Anck cried out, 'Ardath! Niy! Niy!' Celia never heard ancient Egyptian spoken, but she knew instinctively that Anck was trying to dissuade her friend. Anck gasped loudly when Ardath shoved the man away from the boy forcibly, then bent down to scoop the child protectively into her arms. She had her back to him, her attention only on the child.  
  
Celia saw, though Ardath did not, the fury that crossed the man's face. He drew back his hand to strike the girl, but the hand was caught in mid-swing. Celia instinctively flinched, and when she did that, she found herself seeing through Ardath's eyes. Feeling what Ardath felt. The fury. . .the fear. . .the anticipation of the blow, for daring to stop a royal prince from having his entertainment.  
  
The blow, of course, never landed. A hauntingly familiar voice growled, 'What is this? You attack children now, cousin? And what did these two do, to warrant a beating?' Ardath tightened her arms around the now-whimpering child, only vaguely hearing Anck's staunch defense of her. And as she did, the frightened young girl caught a name. Two names, actually. Khaldun. . .the man who attempted to strike the boy. And Rameses, who stopped the man. Who stopped his cousin from harming either the boy or the young girl.  
  
A woman cried out something that neither Ardath nor Celia could quite make out, and the boy pulled himself from Ardath's arms. He ran to his mother, and a gentle hand came to rest on Ardath's shoulder. A half second after that, a hand presented itself to her, and that hauntingly familiar voice now said, 'Might I help you to your feet, my Lady? You just protected a Med-jai child, and I know for a fact that such a thing will earn their eternal loyalty.'  
  
Shyly, the girl placed her hand in the large hand in front of her, and Prince Rameses closed his fingers around her own. He gently turned her around. Ardath followed the hand all the way up the arm, across the shoulder, to the prince's face. Once she beheld the prince, Celia softly gasped, across three millennia. Because she found the familiar dark eyes and just as familiar features of Ardeth Bey staring back at her.  
  
With that particular surprise waiting for her, Celia almost forgot to breathe. Although exactly she was so surprised, she didn't know. She should have seen this coming. But. . . Ardeth? Ardeth was Prince Rameses reborn? And she was Lady Ardath? Celia's mind raced, trying to put the pieces together in a way that made some semblance of sense. Her grandmother said gently, 'Yes, my dear girl. You are the reincarnation of Ardath, and Ardeth Bey is the reincarnation of Rameses. This lifetime marks the first time in three millennia that Rameses has permitted Ardath to be in his life.'  
  
Three thousand years? Why? Her grandmother continued, now sounding reluctant, 'You know, of course, that Lady Ardath was murdered when she was but twenty years old?' Celia nodded. . .yes, Evy told her that. Annabelle continued, still sounding very reluctant, 'After Ardath was murdered, Rameses fell into despair. He was totally grief-stricken. He could not even look at his own child, the son Ardath bore him only a week before her death.'  
  
Celia nodded, being able to understand that. Her grandmother added, 'And then, a Med-jai overheard Khaldun, the prince's cousin, bragging about what he did. This Med-jai, Shakir Bey, was the protector for the pharaoh's favorite concubine, Anck-su-namun, and he went to Rameses. He told him what he heard and Rameses had his most trusted friends. . .Terumun, Imhotep, and Nassor. . .abduct Khaldun and take him to Hamunaptra."  
  
The City of the Dead. Annabelle confirmed, 'Yes, the city of the dead. There, Terumun and Imhotep stood guard with Imhotep's priests, just as a precaution, while Rameses interrogated Khaldun. The interrogation turned ugly, however, when Khaldun boasted of killing Lady Ardath and mocked his cousin's grief. The prince's grief and despair turned to rage. This little man was bragging about killing the woman Rameses had loved, the mother of his child.'  
  
Celia could see what was coming, as soon as her grandmother told her that the interrogation had turned ugly. And she began to understand why Rameses shut out Ardath these last three thousand years. Which meant she had a lot of work to do. Her grandmother acknowledged, 'Rameses tortured Khaldun to death, then with Imhotep's aid, bound Khaldun's soul to Hamunaptra. It was a forerunner to what the Med-jai would do just five years later, when Anck-su-namun and Imhotep would kill Seti and Imhotep's attempt to resurrect Anck-su-namun. Khaldun swore that it wouldn't end with him, and he would start with Imhotep.'  
  
Annabelle paused, then continued, 'With his cousin's blood on his hands, and with Khaldun murdered in such a brutal manner, Rameses no longer felt worthy of raising the child he had created with Ardath. And so, as thanks for finding the truth about his beloved's murder, Rameses gave his son to Shakir Bey, who was newly married. He was one of the few Med-jai whom Rameses could trust, since he never forgave them for allowing Ardath to die. It wasn't their fault, of course. . .but a man ravaged by grief is rarely rational.'  
  
Rarely? Make that never! And then, something occurred to Celia, which took her breath away. Did her grandmother say Shakir Bey? As in. . .? Annabelle explained, 'Yes. Ardeth comes from the line of Shakir Bey. Hamadi Bey, the Med-jai captain who later invoked the hom-dai against Imhotep, died without children, so that part of the family died out. Hamadi lost his own life, for daring to punish Imhotep without the permission of the new pharaoh after Seti's murder.'  
  
Celia knew that took place at Hamunaptra. . .the cursing of Imhotep. Hamunaptra. Everything seemed to lead right back to Hamunaptra. Where Khaldun was tortured to death, and where Imhotep was cursed by the hom-dai. Annabelle said, 'Everything leads back to Hamunaptra, and to Lady Ardath's murder. For it was her murder which started the destruction of Anck-su- namun's soul, as well as the soul of Rameses.'  
  
Why? Why were Ardath's murder and Hamunaptra the linch pins for this entire thing? Her grandmother laughed unexpectedly and replied, 'Because, my darling girl, they are opposites. To Rameses, Ardath *was* life. And Hamunaptra was death. I'm sure you'll recall, my sweet, what 'Ardath' means. A field of flowers. . .and what is more life affirming than new flowers blossoming in the spring?'  
  
So, all this time, Rameses was rejecting life, because he felt he was not worthy of it. Rejecting life and love. Annabelle told her, 'Just so. The gods finally tired of it, and wiped his memories clean. Which means, my darling girl, that you must be very careful. Ardeth struggles with a balance, between his soul as a human being and the things he must do to protect humanity, by guarding Hamunaptra.'  
  
Celia had to be careful? So she couldn't tell Ardeth the truth? She could do that. . . she could keep that from him. But that wasn't what her grandmother meant at all. Annabelle explained, 'No, my love. You are the only person who can trigger those memories. But you must be very careful how you do it. Rameses' guilt at what he became. . .it is still strong after three thousand years.'  
  
Oh swell! Annabelle chastised gently, 'You can do this, Cecelia, if you are willing to fight for Ardeth. Love has more than one facet. It is not just the tenderness of holding someone and making love.' Celia felt herself blushing, and Annabelle went on, 'Oh for heaven's sake, Cecelia! We're both grown women. All right, maybe I should have discussed sex with you before I died. But darling, the point I'm trying to make is, sometimes, you must fight for and with, the one you love.'  
  
Love? Whoa! When did love enter into this picture? Celia only just admitted that she was *attracted* to Ardeth, but attraction wasn't the same thing as love! Her grandmother merely laughed and replied, 'But love will come in its own time, my darling girl. You already know that Ardeth Bey is a man you can trust. With your body. . .with your heart. . .with your daughter. And love follows trust.'  
  
True enough. And here in this place, love didn't frighten Celia as much as it did on the outside. Annabelle explained, 'That's because you're safe here, and you know it, just as you are safe with Ardeth. Once you are safe and secure with yourself, it becomes that much easier to reach out to Ardeth. You have been reaching out to him, and I am very proud of you for that. But you, as you have said, have much work to do.'  
  
Celia looked down at Rameses and Ardath, who were seemingly unaware of everyone else around them. She saw that expression in Evy and Rick's faces many times. Celia also saw the wonder in Anck's eyes, as she beheld the expression on her friend's face, and realized the meaning of it. If Rameses chose Ardath as his concubine, then her immediate future was assured. There was a spark between them that even cynical Anck-su-namun couldn't ignore. And Anck was just ruthless enough to make sure that nothing came between Rameses and Ardath, if it meant her forever friend's happiness. //Forever friend? Where did I get that?//  
  
'That is what they called each other. Anck swore that she would always take care of Ardath, back when they first met, and Ardath told her, 'then you are my forever friend.' I believe that little Scottish girl was the first person Anck ever loved,' Annabelle observed. Scottish? Celia looked at her grandmother, who confirmed, 'Scottish. Her father was a Pict and her mother was Irish. When her father chose to marry her mother, when Ardath. . .or Eavan. . .was three, he was cast out. They eventually ended up in Egypt, where they died, and Ardath was given her new name by the Hebrew slaves.'  
  
Scottish. Just like Celia. This new connection made Celia shiver. Then her grandmother added knowingly, 'And there is another connection, dear child. Remember what I told you about Shakir Bey.' Rameses gave his son to Shakir Bey to raise after Ardath's murder. . . and Ardeth Bey came from that line. Celia's mind zipped ahead, to a question, which her grandmother answered with, 'Yes, my love. . .Ardeth Bey is descended from Rameses and Ardath.' 


	10. Unexpected Revelations

Deana: Yeah, I do hurt poor Ardeth. . .quite often, actually, in this story. One of these days, I'll have to sit down and count the number of times he gets hurt in this story. And I could easily see  
  
Jonathan attacking the fourth guy, no trouble.  
  
Part Nine  
  
Several hours after the abduction in the bazaar, the Med-jai and the O'Connells set out. Ardeth insisted he could ride a horse, but Rick and Evy joined forces to make him ride in the car. They used a decidedly unfair method: Miranda. The little girl asked him to stay with her. Ardeth promised himself that he would make those two pay for such underhanded tactics when his head didn't feel like it would fall off his shoulders.  
  
Kaphiri awaited them at the dock. He was informed of the change in plans, and gathered the necessary bribes and such to make sure the guilty parties did not know they were on board. . . and to delay the departure of the boat as long as he could. It was not easy to sneak five Med-jai, three Westerners, and two children aboard the barge, but it was done and in short order, Ardeth was settled in his cabin.  
  
Kaphiri was briefing him about what they knew to date. From the information he gathered, Celia was still unconscious, most likely drugged. It didn't seem that she was otherwise harmed, and Ardeth silently swore to slit the throat of every men in that party, if she suffered further. While he waited, too, Kaphiri sent messages to the Med-jai, informing them of the attack on their chieftain and the abduction of the girl. He made it clear that though the men sought Hamunaptra, the girl did not, and she was not to be harmed, under any circumstances.  
  
Good, that was very good. Ardeth didn't like the idea of rescuing Celia while they were on the docks, he preferred to wait until they were in the desert. Med-jai territory. Not just theirs, but it was in the desert that his Med-jai would hold the advantage. And so he sat in his cabin, burning with frustration, but knowing any attempt to rescue his new American friend in such close quarters would most likely result in her death.  
  
O'Connell and Evy were with him at the moment: it seemed Evelyn didn't fully trust him not to do something foolish. True, Ardeth often forgot to take care of himself. But his stupidity already resulted in Celia's capture. . .he would not allow his stupidity to cause her death. And so, he simply listened while Evelyn talked about. . .things. . .Ardeth wasn't even sure what she was saying. At the same time, O'Connell was cleaning his guns.  
  
O'Connell broke in, 'Evy, why don't you check on Miranda and Alex?' Evy stopped in mid-sentence to glower at her husband. O'Connell nodded toward Ardeth, and the Med-jai saw understanding dawn in her eyes. She looked back at O'Connell and nodded. She closed her book, walked over to kiss Ardeth's forehead, then left the room. O'Connell looked back at Ardeth with a wry grin, asking, 'Subtle, ain't she?'  
  
'Yes,' Ardeth agreed with a wry grin of his own, 'about as subtle as you, my friend." O'Connell laughed, and Ardeth continued, "Well, since my brother is currently checking on your son and Celia's daughter for the third time tonight. . .' Anatol jumped back and forth between the children and Ardeth, until O'Connell 'suggested' he stayed there, so he wouldn't make Ardeth's head feel worse.  
  
'Okay, you're right. . .and so is Evy. Subtlety ain't my strong suit. Listen. Aw, shit, this was so much easier when I was rehearsing in my head. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me everything about Jason Ferguson?' O'Connell finally asked. Ardeth was startled. He had managed to keep Evelyn and Alex out of danger; why was O'Connell so. . .why was he behaving like this?  
  
'O'Connell, how do our conversations go usually'" Ardeth asked with a sigh. The other man glared at him, but Ardeth wasn't about to back down. The Med-jai continued, 'I kept your wife and son from harm, what more do you wish me to do? How many times have we been through this, O'Connell? I could not keep your family out of this, not completely, but I did keep them safe. What more do you want?'  
  
The American's answer startled him. Instead of answering him directly, the other man asked, 'How long have we known each other, Ardeth? Almost eight years?' A bit surprised, Ardeth nodded, and O'Connell continued, 'You call my brother-in-law Jonathan. You call my wife Evelyn. You call my son Alex. But you have never called me 'Rick.' It's always been O'Connell. Why is that?'  
  
'You have never given me leave to use 'Rick,' my friend,' Ardeth answered simply. O'Connell blinked in surprise, and Ardeth continued, 'During our second adventure together, shortly before you and Evelyn married, your wife told me to call her 'Evelyn' or 'Evy,' which I did. . .and I told her to call me by my name. At the same time, your brother-in- law gave me leave to use his name. You have never given me leave to call you 'Rick,' so I have not.'  
  
O'Connell stared at him a moment longer, then muttered, 'Holy crap. You're serious.' Ardeth simply glared at him, getting truly annoyed with the other man for. . .for not taking Ardeth's ways seriously. From the first moment of their meeting it was like this!  
  
His headache returned with a vengeance and he asked around the pounding in his head, 'What would you have me do, O'Connell? I realize you do not respect my ways or beliefs. . .but this is whom I am and have always been. What do you want of me? You accuse me of putting your wife and child at risk, when I am trying to save them. You belittle my beliefs, you. . .'  
  
'Whoa, whoa, whoa. . .Ardeth, calm down! Shit. Listen, I'm sorry. I never meant. . . It's just that after all this time, I didn't think you needed me to tell you to call me by my name!' O'Connell exclaimed. Ardeth sank back against his bunk, closing his eyes. He knew he should apologize to O'Connell, but he simply didn't have the energy for that. There was the scratch of a chair moving across the floor, then footfall.  
  
Then O'Connell said softly, his voice much closer now, 'I'm sorry. And you're right. I've been a lousy friend. You've put yourself at risk, and I never really bothered to thank you for that. And I don't mean to. . .sound like. . .like I do. It's just. . .these things which you accept so easily. . .I'm still getting used to. And I suppose I'm jealous of you.' Ardeth opened his eyes at that, startled by the admission. . .especially given who was making it.  
  
O'Connell continued, 'You have your life turned upside down on a regular basis. . .most of the time by Evy and me. . .and you just deal with it. You're stronger than I am, and I'm jealous of that. You're stronger than I am, and you know exactly who you are. That's not something I know. I guess I forget that it comes with a price. You didn't ask to guard Hamunaptra or have your world shattered. But you did the best you could, and I got no business trying to take that away from you.'  
  
Now Ardeth was speechless. After a moment, he found his voice, asking with no small amount of concern, 'My friend, are you feeling all right? Were you struck on the head at the same time I was?' O'Connell dropped his head, and for a moment, Ardeth was on the verge of apologizing, but the other man lifted his head and smiled at him. O'Connell just shook his head, amusement warring with exasperation.  
  
'See! Th. . .th. . .that's what I'm talking about! Ardeth. . .Evy and me, we had a long talk today before we left the house today. I thought at the time that she. . .well. . .she didn't know what she was talking about. But damn if she hasn't been right every time so far. She's starting to sound like you, scary as that is,' O'Connell said, and Ardeth rolled his eyes. O'Connell continued, 'She knew, before anyone else, that you were attracted to Celia. And she told me outright that I'd been a lousy friend to you. And that you expect it. You shouldn't. You don't deserve it. Nobody does.'  
  
Ardeth's mind stopped, albeit briefly, when O'Connell referred to his feelings toward Celia. What did O'Connell mean by that, he was attracted to Celia? He vowed to protect her. . . a vow that he was now even more determined to carry out, since he failed her. O'Connell leaned forward and said, 'Now don't you even think about denying it, Ardeth. I saw the look on your face when you touched her hand.' When. . .oh. Ardeth swallowed hard, remembering the incident in question during a lesson.  
  
Most of the time, Celia was on her feet immediately after falling, but on that particular day, and the two days which followed, her reaction time was a little slower than normal, and her movements were sluggish. Ardeth reached down to help her up. She took his hand with a rueful smile. . .rueful and pained. And as their palms touched, something zapped through Ardeth and for a moment, he thought his heart would stop from the shock.  
  
It was the first time they touched and it startled him. From her expression, it startled her, too. But she wrapped her fingers around his hand, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. They stared at each other, Ardeth unsure what he should do next, if anything. Did he acknowledge the sensation which shot through him at her touch? Or did he carry on, as if nothing happened?  
  
She made that decision for him when she gave him a faint smile and said, 'I'm all right. Just a bit sore.' But Ardeth couldn't help feeling as if there was something more she wanted to say. And he had no idea what to do next, so the lesson began once more. He permitted himself a teacher's pride in his student. She was attentive and she was smart, sometimes seeing where he was going with a particular point before he got there.  
  
He wasn't worried about her 'clumsiness.' What she lacked in grace, she made up for in brains, which was important indeed. She was beginning to anticipate his actions. . .he could see it in her eyes. She would never be a great warrior. . .but she would, in time, be good enough to protect herself, her home and her child. Further, Ardeth was pleased that she knew there were times to fight and times to run, such as when she had been chased by those men. If she had stood and fought, she would have died. Something that made Ardeth Bey very cold inside.  
  
Aware of O'Connell staring at him, Ardeth said softly, 'I have. . .even if I am attracted to Celia. . .it can go nowhere. She is an American. She will go back to Chicago with her daughter. And I cannot ask a woman to share this life I lead. I cannot make her my first priority, O'Connell, and she deserves nothing less than to be first.' O'Connell just smiled, and Ardeth had the eerie sense the other man was hearing what he wasn't saying.  
  
'In the first place. . .despite all that you just said, I didn't hear a denial in there. You are attracted to Celia. In the second place, Celia ain't goin' nowhere for a while. She's staying in Egypt until the baby is born. She's been through a pregnancy, she has a better idea of what to expect, and she can help out Evy. And in the third place. . .you're the last person I'd ever expect to be a coward when it came to love. You're afraid, Ardeth,' O'Connell said.  
  
Ardeth knew he should have been furious with O'Connell for calling him a coward. But the Med-jai did not like wasting time on denying the truth, especially not when he had a pounding headache. He sighed, 'I am afraid. Even without the other. . .complications. . .I am afraid to make my. . .dreams. . .known to Celia. I have no experience with. . .such things. And I fear I would. . .offend her.'  
  
O'Connell looked at him, his mouth opening. At first, nothing came out. Then he blurted out, 'Holy. . .are you telling me that you're a virgin??????? No way!' Ardeth felt his face grow very, very warm. O'Connell got up suddenly, in a movement which made Ardeth's head hurt anew, and began to pace. He muttered, 'Of course you are, you ain't the love 'em and leave 'em type. You're too serious to pay attention to a girl unless you really like her. . .and being the Med-jai leader, you got other things on your mind. You're a virgin!'  
  
This was said with a finger jabbed in his direction and entirely too much enjoyment for Ardeth's liking. O'Connell continued, shaking his head, 'Unbelievable. The man who reduced Celia to a blithering idiot when he smiled at her. . .the man whom both she and my wife describe as 'devastatingly handsome,' usually just to annoy me. . .is a virgin! Ardeth, buddy. . .before we do anything about this attraction of yours to Celia, we've got to get you more experience.'  
  
The door opened and closed as O'Connell ranted, but until he moved, Ardeth couldn't see who came in. And Evelyn blurted out, 'Richard O'Connell, you leave him alone! Shame on you for embarrassing him like that!' Ardeth groaned and tried to sink lower into his bunk. He wondered if there was a spell in the Med-jai records he could learn for future reference. . .like the next time he was in the middle of a husband/wife argument.  
  
'But. . .but. . .but. . .' O'Connell stammered, his blue eyes going very, very wide at this surprise attack from his wife. Ardeth made no attempt to help his floundering friend. Instead, he pulled as far from the bickering couple as was humanly possible with the wall at his back, and the fact that his six foot two inch frame could only do so much in a limited amount of space. O'Connell finally blurted out, 'But Evy! He's a virgin!'  
  
'Sooooooo?' Evelyn asked with exaggerated patience. Ardeth once heard a peculiar Western saying, regarding a fish. How did that go? Oh yes. . .his gaping mouth rather resembled a stranded fish. That saying seemed perfect for O'Connell at this moment. Evelyn continued, 'Honestly, Rick! I thought you wanted me to leave so you could make things right with Ardeth, instead of embarrassing him further.'  
  
'That was before I figured out that he was a virgin! Honey! Do you really want your best friend's first time to be with another virgin?' Rick finally managed to get out. Clearly, like Ardeth himself, O'Connell did not regard the night that produced Miranda to be a true first time for Celia. The pathetic excuse for a man, whose only true accomplishment was the child he helped to create, was only using Celia.  
  
'Yes! As a matter of fact, I do! Not that it's any of your concern,' Evelyn retorted. Ardeth thanked her with a glance, and she simply winked at him. She turned back to her husband and continued, 'Now, unless you have an apology to make to Ardeth, I suggest you go talk with your son. He's making the Med-jai utterly insane.' O'Connell simply huffed, but did shoot a glance over at Ardeth.  
  
Understanding immediately, the Med-jai answered, 'All is well, O. . .all is well, Rick.' He was rewarded with a grin, then the other man was gone. Ardeth allowed his head to drop back against the pillows.  
  
His headache got even worse during the last few minutes, and he closed his eyes, sighing. In a way, he was glad Evelyn decided to come with them. She was right. He would have collapsed before they even rescued Celia. It was just. . .there were so many things to do. Plans and preparations to make. The bunk shifted slightly and Ardeth opened his eyes to see Evelyn looking at him. He smiled, and she said, 'You know. . .he did mean well.'  
  
'I do. . .but I do not wish my. . .my lack of experience broadcasted over the entire barge. I have other priorities in my life, Evelyn, I. . .what am I doing, having this conversation with you?' Ardeth groaned. He closed his eyes, and Evelyn just touched his burning cheek very gently. He could not believe he just said that to her. True, she was his friend. . .but O'Connell, Rick, called Celia Evelyn's best friend.  
  
'Because, Ardeth, you can. There is no need to be embarrassed. But you're a young, handsome, intelligent, loving man. You have so much love to give, Ardeth, and all I want. . .all either of us want. . .is for you to be happy. Rick isn't very good at saying so, but I know he feels as I do. We want you to be happy. . .we want a good woman who will take care of you, and love you the way you deserve to be loved,' Evelyn replied and Ardeth opened his eyes.  
  
'And what about Celia?' he asked, 'Are you so sure I can make her happy? I do not even know if I am capable of loving her as she deserves to be loved! I do not know if I am capable of loving any woman! All I know is duty, Evelyn, duty and sometimes death. What kind of a life is that for a woman such as her? I would not ask such a thing of her, even without the other complications. It would be too presumptuous.'  
  
'No, my darling brother, you are being presumptuous now. Celia can make such a decision for herself. She knows the difference between a man whom she can trust and a man whom she cannot. And she trusts you. Do not take that away from her!' Evelyn said fiercely. She shook her head, saying, 'I told Rick that he hasn't done right by you. . .I suppose neither have I. At the beginning, I hated you. I hated you for trying to drive us away from Hamunaptra, for being so. . .so. . .such a know-it-all man. But I was wrong, Ardeth. I was wrong.'  
  
Ardeth was stunned by Evelyn's words. She smiled at him tenderly and continued, 'I was fortunate, Ardeth, because in time, I grew to know the real Ardeth Bey, someone whom I love very much. Family is not created by blood. Alex was not born of my body, but I love him no less than the child Rick and I have created together. You were not born into the Carnahan family, but I love you just as much as I love Jonathan.'  
  
By now, Ardeth couldn't have spoken under any circumstances. Half of him believed this was a hallucination, created by the blow to his head. Evelyn just smiled and said, 'I think you and Celia can love each other. I think you are coming to love each other. Don't be afraid of love, Ardeth. Never be afraid of love.' Ardeth didn't know how to answer her. And it wasn't necessary. Evelyn whispered, 'Just think about what I have said, Ardeth. You don't have to make any decisions right now. Tomorrow, we rescue Celia, and right now, that's everyone's top priority. Rest now.' She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then quietly left the room. She left a very confused Med-jai chieftain behind her.  
  
. . .  
  
He stood alone, staring at the moonlight as it glistened on the moonlight. By all rights, he should be in his bunk, asleep. Tomorrow would be a difficult day, and they all needed their rest. There were three other Med-jai on board, in addition to the party who would be rescuing Celia Ferguson the following morning, and those Med-jai were keeping watch. He should have been resting. . .but sleep would not come easily for Anatol Bey this night.  
  
When he closed his eyes, he could still see his brother lying in Garai's arms, unconscious and terribly, terribly pale. It brought back memories which he thought he had banished for good. Not just of finding his elder brother in Hamunaptra, but older memories. Andreas. Anatol thought those memories were gone forever, with the death of Lock-nah, but it seemed that he would be forever haunted.  
  
He knew about the abduction attempt this morning, because Ardeth told him about Jason Ferguson's plans. Anatol asked him why he would agree to the visit to the bazaar, if he already knew about it. Ardeth answered that for one thing, it would have tipped off the conspirators that they were onto them. Anatol could see the truth in that. The other reason was, Ardeth hoped to learn more about this new threat.  
  
Learn they had. . .but Anatol could have lost his older brother today. He accepted that Ardeth was just a human being, not an angel. Nor did his brother wish to be put atop a pedestal. In a rare flash of the brother whom Anatol remembered from his early childhood, Ardeth admitted not long ago that he was lonely enough, as the chieftain of their people. To be considered somehow more than he was. . .that would have been even more lonely.  
  
And Anatol wasn't there for him, the way he should have been. The young warrior swore to himself, at the beginning of this holiday, that he would take care of his brother. And a poor job indeed he did of it. He should have been at Ardeth's side. Never mind what his brother said about a perimeter sweep. One of the other Med-jai could have done that. Anatol's place, as Ardeth's brother, was at Ardeth's side. Nowhere else. So, deeply shaken by his brother's brush with death, Anatol took his fear and frustration and anger out on the man who attacked him.  
  
Not on Jonathan Carnahan. It wasn't the fault of the Englishman. After all, his first instinct was to stay with the defenseless child, Miranda. Ardeth was a warrior and a leader, but Miranda was a child. Anyone's first instinct would be to see to her, including Anatol's own. And after that blow landed, Jonathan successfully protected Ardeth. So, no, Anatol was *not* angry with Jonathan. With himself, yes; with that betrayer Jason Ferguson, yes; and yes, even with his brother. But he was not angry with Jonathan.  
  
Were it not for the chattering teeth, Anatol would have never known he was no longer alone, but the curious sound drew his attention. He looked down to find little Miranda Ferguson huddled near his leg. Forgetting his own guilt in the face of her obvious misery, the young Med- jai swooped down and swept her into his arms. Miranda put her arms around his neck and whispered, 'I can't visit Ardeth, 'cause he's sleeping. And Mr. O'Connell. . .Uncle Rick. . .is talking to Alex, so I left the room.'  
  
And so, she came to Anatol for comfort, because he taught her. It was comfort she needed desperately, because she was so afraid for her mother. Anatol felt guilty for a new reason then. Here he was, drowning in self-pity because he could not protect his brother, when Miranda saw her mother kidnapped, as well as the betrayal of her uncle, and the attack against Ardeth. No wonder the poor child was frightened.  
  
'Oh, little one, you do know that we will find your mother and get her back?' Anatol asked softly. Miranda huddled against his body, tucking her head under his chin, and nodded, ever so slightly. Anatol continued, 'It scared you, did it not, when that nasty man hit my brother?' Again, Miranda nodded and Anatol sighed, 'It frightened me, too. He is my older brother. . .and just like you, he makes me feel safe.'  
  
Miranda looked up at him and said, 'But Anatol, you're big, too!' Anatol almost laughed at that statement. He was several inches shorter than his brother, after all, and had a hard time keeping a respectable beard. But, he realized with a start, to her, he *was* big. And he was teaching her how to defend herself, just as Ardeth taught her mother. So he decided that he should show a little more respect for the child.  
  
'I know, little one, but he's still my big brother, and he always will be. When we were children, he took care of me. He made me feel safe. He still makes me feel safe, and I'm a warrior in my own right. So when he was hurt. . .it frightened me. Just like it frightened you,' Anatol replied. He didn't tell her that their older brother Andreas died when he was only nine years old, that Anatol saw him die. Or about any of the other nightmares which happened in those forty-eight hours.  
  
Miranda was quiet for a long time, then she said softly, 'It's not so scary, when you're not alone.' Anatol had no answer to that, save tightening his arms around the small girl's body. There was another long silence, then Miranda said, 'Anatol? I think Ardeth likes my mommy.' This time, Anatol couldn't *quite* help the twitch of his lips. So, Miranda thought that Ardeth liked Celia? She wasn't the only one.  
  
Anatol wasn't sure how he felt about that. . .wasn't sure if he liked the idea of Ardeth with Celia. For a variety of reasons, none of which actually had anything to do with the fact that she was an American. It was more a matter of, he wasn't sure if she was strong enough to handle what would come as the Western bride of the Med-jai chieftain. The consequences that would come for both Ardeth and Celia. Yes, she respected their ways and their beliefs, understood the need for those ways (which meant she was one up on O'Connell at times), but while that would please the elders, there was still the matter of the maidens.  
  
Was Celia strong enough to deal with the disappointed young girls who had their hearts set on the handsome, solemn chieftain? Anatol heard that description of his brother so many times, he rolled his eyes now when he did hear it. Some of these young females were younger than Anatol himself. . .what about themselves did they think would interest Ardeth? The ones who concerned him weren't the ones intelligent enough who had an idea of what would make Ardeth, the chieftain and the man, happy.  
  
The ones who worried him were the ones who wanted Ardeth not for his loyalty, his compassion, or his love. . .but for what he could give them. Namely, the prestige of being married to the chieftain of all twelve tribes. The ones who prized the man Ardeth Bey were more inclined to be fair, and those girls did exist. It was the poisonous, malicious girls who worried him, who would make fun of Celia for her pale skin and eyes, for not knowing Arabic.  
  
That would allow them to speak of her behind her back, and mock her unfamiliarity with their ways. When Anatol acknowledged these fears to Garai, who seemed to regard Celia as a granddaughter or a daughter, Garai reminded him that there was Altair Bey, as well as Aleta and Acacia. If those three decided that they liked Celia, the poisonous beauties would find themselves facing the Three, as the elders called them.  
  
But there was one other reason why Anatol struggled with the idea of his brother and Celia together. She touched his own heart, in a way Anatol didn't fully understand. Unlike his older brother, Anatol had women. . .though he would have never dreamed of teasing his brother about his lack of experience with women. Ardeth had a heavy burden, and it was hard for him to make himself that vulnerable, even for so short a time. Things would turn out as they were meant to. . .but there were times when Anatol wished he could move the time table of the gods along. And this rescue of Celia in the morning would be a good place to start.  
  
. . .  
  
During the night and the following morning, the kidnappers were watched like hawks by the Med-jai. Word spread among the latecomers that a cowardly attack against their chieftain took place. . .and now, it was personal for the Med-jai. The truth was, among those Med-jai who followed Ardeth Bey into battle, he was greatly loved. He was one of theirs, a soldier who was willing to die alongside his men.  
  
Those who did not love him, did respect him. He was a fair man, though sometimes harsh. However, there were those among the Med-jai who sometimes wondered if their young chieftain wasn't too merciful. . .the events at Hamunaptra, seven years earlier, came to mind. But at the same time, if he hadn't spared the lives of the O'Connells, they would have never had their help in putting Imhotep down the second time. Things balanced out in the end.  
  
Those with no respect at all for their chieftain didn't last long. There were usually two reasons for this lack of respect. . .one, because of his youth, and two, because he did not spill blood unless he had to. Those people did exist. But they did not remain among the warriors for long, because too many people *did* respect him. Chief among this last group of men was fifty-five year old Alekos, commander of the Geban tribe of the Med- jai.  
  
When the Med-jai started their sacred duty as the keepers of Hamunaptra, three thousand years earlier, each tribe took the name of a specific Egyptian god, or goddess. The tribe of Shakir Bey belonged to Osiris. Thus, they were called the Osiran tribe. The Geban tribe underwent a name change with the arrival of the Ptolemies, a second wave of Greek immigration in the Egyptian desert. Most of the families in the Geban tribe were of Greek descent, including Alekos himself.  
  
Alekos was a young man of sixteen when the caravan carrying Altair Costas was attacked. In a manner of speaking, since the Geban tribe was the Greek tribe of the Med-jai, Alekos was responsible for the meeting between the frightened Greek girl and the new leader of the Osiran tribe. At this time, Suleiman's father ascended to the chieftain of all twelve tribes. Alekos, as the son of the Commander, was responsible for taking Altair Costas to Hamunaptra, to speak with Suleiman. He wanted to hear what they knew about the City of the Dead.  
  
When Altair married Suleiman later that year, Alekos and his father stood up with the girl who lost her entire family in the raid. Alekos, who loved the stories of the ancient Med-jai, told Altair the story of another foreign girl who arrived on Egypt's shores and won the heart of a prince. Lady Ardath, mother of the second Med-jai chieftain, Ardeth Bey. From that story, Altair chose the name of her second son. . .and the current chieftain.  
  
So Alekos had a long history with the Bey family. He watched all five Bey children grow up, and wept at the death of Andreas Bey. He, of all people, had the least amount of confidence in young Ardeth when he first became the chieftain. It was a tumultuous time for the Med-jai, and the next nine years proved to be a troubled time indeed for the ancient protectors. Alekos had little confidence that the shy young warrior, who only passed his rites of manhood the previous year, was strong enough to stand up to the divisions within the Med-jai.  
  
The boy surprised them all. He lost most of his early battles, because the elders weren't willing to listen to a boy of seventeen, chieftain or not. But Ardeth fought on. While he lost the early battles with the elders, he won the respect of his men, and the older commanders who saw in him the same determination which made his father an excellent chieftain. Diplomacy would come with age, they supposed.  
  
As the years passed, and the warriors loyal to Ardeth grew in numbers, there was some worry that the growing divisions between the warriors and the elders would tear the Med-jai apart. Not because Ardeth openly sought such division, but because the warriors, like Ardeth himself, had minds of their own. And then, the Carnahan-O'Connell expedition took place, and everything changed. Including Ardeth himself.  
  
In a way, the debacle at Hamunaptra in 1926 proved to be just the thing necessary for the elders to finally see the truth. In the modern era, the Med-jai simply weren't good enough any more. Few of the elders had much experience with Westerners. They had no idea how to fight them, much less how to deal with a determined young woman like Evelyn Carnahan. Case in point? The attempt to recover the key from her on the barge. The warriors were fine ones. . .but the plan concocted by the elders was simply laughable.  
  
That attack was ordered against Ardeth's wishes, because there were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. The same objections he voiced this time around, as well. But the elders went behind his back, and because of that, many Med-jai were dead. And in short order, the Creature was raised from the dead. . .more Med-jai were killed. Including Ardeth's own uncle, the curator of the Cairo Museum.  
  
Aric, the elder who lost his own son at Hamunaptra, and who accompanied Anatol Bey to rescue their young leader, was now the boy's fiercest ally. It would have been easy, Alekos thought, to blame Ardeth. Too easy. But the old man learned his lesson. The unwillingness of the elders to listen to their young chieftain had, in effect, cost the old man his son. How could Ardeth fight the invaders, when he received so little support from his own people? How could they expect that of him, the man demanded, and then blame him for being unable to turn back the tide, with second or third-rate warriors?  
  
After the first rising at Hamunaptra, the elders were thrown into a disarray. Both by the change of allegiance demonstrated by one of Ardeth's most vocal detractors, and by almost losing their young chieftain for good, just as they lost his brother and father. The other Commanders were waiting for such a break during the last nine years. . .and to the surprise of only a few, threw all their support behind Ardeth.  
  
For his own part, Alekos was impressed by Ardeth's determination during the last nine years. He was the first to pledge his whole-hearted support. He acted as Ardeth's agent as the young man recovered from his injuries, by seeking out instructors in Cairo who could teach the Med-jai modern forms of battle. And for seven years, they had peace. Until that woman, Meela, came. . .and the City of the Dead was plundered once more.  
  
Ardeth was away at the time. . .trying to sort out a dispute within the Tehuti tribe of the Med-jai. By the time he returned, the work already began to raise the Creature once more. Word had it that their chieftain swore in about six different languages, before he finally informed the elders that he would take the place of one of the workers, to find out as much as he could about what this woman Meela wanted.  
  
What Ardeth didn't know, and what none of the elders or Commanders would ever tell him, was that the official who gave his permission for the dig at Hamunaptra met with. . .an unfortunate accident. While Ardeth was risking his life, first on the dig, then in England, Alekos took two of his best men and paid said official a little visit. They could not undo the damage done. . .but they could make sure he could not cause any more harm.  
  
And now, here they were. . .once more bound for Hamunaptra. This time, however, the stakes were higher than in the past. Even as the Med- jai feared the Creature, most of them also secretly pitied him. . .because each among them knew what it meant to be in love, what it meant to be that desperate, and silently condemned Hamadi Bey for giving the order. The other men carried out the order. . .but Hamadi Bey was their captain, and to disobey a direct order was tantamount to disobeying the Pharaoh himself. So, yes. Many of the Med-jai did pity the Creature, for he had no control over the plagues he would leash into the world.  
  
The evil they faced now. . .there was no such pity for this one. Khaldun. He killed not for love, but for hate, jealousy, and pleasure. Alekos knew from the ancient texts that Rameses and Imhotep, along with the Med-jai Terumun and the general Nassor, took Khaldun to Hamunaptra when it was learned that Khaldun caused the death of Rameses' favorite concubine. There, they tortured him to death, then bound his spirit to Hamunaptra, to ensure that he could never again trouble the royal family.  
  
But with Khaldun's death, strange things began to occur at Hamunaptra. . .culminating in the casting of the hom-dai five years after the murder of Khaldun. And given the amount of activity within Hamunaptra during the last several years, it came as no surprise to Alekos that Khaldun's spirit was awakened once more. What he didn't understand was how the American woman was involved. . .why she was taken.  
  
However, whatever the situation, Alekos was determined not to fail his chieftain. This time, they would do things the proper way. . .which didn't end in the death of every Med-jai sent to accomplish the task. They would wait and watch the kidnappers. They would allow the kidnappers to think they had the upper hand. Allow them to get complacent and celebrate their victory. As Ardeth pointed out, they would expect a rescue attempt on the barge. . .because the Med-jai did it before.  
  
In addition, once they got into the open desert, they would be in Med- jai territory. . .the fighting ground which they knew best. Word was sent to the Geban tribe by Kaphiri of the Osiran tribe, giving them the planned route. Instructions were passed around to all of the men now on the barge, to look into the room where the American woman was held. Fix her features in their minds, because she was not to be harmed.  
  
The others. . .including her traitorous brother. . .were another story. Ardeth wanted at least one alive, to learn more about what was going on. But if it became necessary to kill all of them. . .so be it. And so, Alekos, Commander of the Geban Tribe, stared out at the Nile. He promised himself that he would get the answers which Ardeth sought. . .and he would make those dogs pay for attacking his chieftain.  
  
. . .  
  
This was all wrong. And Jason Ferguson had no idea how to make it right. He could only stare at his sister's pale face, and silently plead for her forgiveness. He did this to her. Not Ardeth Bey. Not Celia. Him. As the hours passed, he tried to hold onto his earlier certainty that he was doing this for Celia's own good, that she was falling under the sway of that bastard. And as the hours passed, that certainty grew less and less certain.  
  
But they were on a barge now, heading toward Hamunaptra. The man, who still refused to tell Jason his name, insisted that Celia remain sedated. . .unconscious. That wasn't what frightened Jason so badly. . .rather, it was a conversation he overheard. A conversation which indicated that both Celia and Jason were being used, and that Celia would be the one to pay for Jason's stupidity.  
  
Now, he was starting to understand why Evelyn O'Connell insisted that he accompany Miranda and Celia to Egypt. Why she then asked her husband and Ardeth Bey to meet them. It was because of these men with whom he allied himself. Men who sought to release someone named Khaldun. . .and his sister was key to this somehow. Apparently, this Khaldun murdered a young mother, three thousand years earlier. Since the woman's blood was used to bind him, only her blood could be used to set her free.  
  
Since Celia was of the same ethnic background as that woman, whose parents were from Scotland and Ireland respectively, she was of the same blood. The Ferguson children could trace their ancestry back to Scotland and Ireland, in addition to other countries. There were other things involved, which Jason didn't understand, but he understood enough. Including the fact that their lives were forfeit, once the Med-jai caught up with them.  
  
He learned during the last week that the Med-jai protected Hamunaptra. . .they would sacrifice even their chieftain to do so. Or rather, he would sacrifice himself, and tried to do so on many occasions. With the attack on Ardeth Bey in the bazaar, the Med-jai were now furious. Word probably spread to the rest of the tribes. . .Jason noticed Ardeth Bey receiving missives from birds during his own time at the O'Connell house.  
  
They knew about the attack in the bazaar. Hopefully, they also knew that Celia was not a danger to them. Hopefully, Bey told them to rescue Celia, instead of killing her with the others. Jason leaned over and gently caressed his sister's forehead with his thumb. He did this to her. And until the Med-jai attacked, he would protect her as best he could. Taking responsibility was something he should have done a long time ago.  
  
But it was always easier to push the blame onto someone else, for whatever reason. Because they were older, because they were different, because, because, because. He could have blamed Celia for coming to Egypt in the first place, but he remembered how unhappy she was, especially after she lost her job at the museum. Evelyn O'Connell offered her something, something she desperately wanted. . .of course she took it!  
  
//Face it, you idiot,// he thought, //you're a loser. . .you've been living off your sister for years, and denigrating her for your own mistakes. Or because she loved you. What kind of man are you, Ferguson? Hell, that's an easy one. . .you ain't! Your old man had it right all along. Celia's more of a man than you'll ever be! She's protected you and taken care of you ever since you can remember, and you never thanked her for that, did you?//  
  
He wanted to ask why. . .why did she put up with his nonsense for such a long time. However, he knew the answer. It was because he was her younger brother, and she loved him. Because she raised him, and believed his failings were her own. But that wasn't her responsibility. She was only five years older, his sister, not his mother. That wasn't her responsibility. . .responsibility for raising him belonged to their parents. Which was shirked and shoved onto the shoulders of their five year old daughter. And sometimes, Annabelle would pick up the slack.  
  
More recently, Celia had her own child to raise. . .Miranda. Jason shook his head, remembering that his niece accompanied them to the bazaar. She likely saw her mother kidnapped and Ardeth Bey attacked. Jason was plenty self-centered, but he noticed that Miranda developed a strong infatuation for the Med-jai leader. She was only four years old. She should have never seen that.  
  
Why was it, that two children in the same family who had the exact same upbringing (or lack thereof) ended up so different? Jason didn't understand that. As the man of the family, it was his responsibility to take care of his sister. Instead, he actively encouraged her to accept the advances of a man who was seeking only to use her. What kind of brother was he? He was happy to see his sister's eyes light up, as they did the first time Leslie Carstairs asked her to dance. . .until that moment, he never realized how lonely she was.  
  
By the same token, Jason also noticed the way she interacted with Ardeth Bey. He noticed the fighting lessons, the quiet conversations. Even the way they would sometimes double-team Rick O'Connell at the dinner table. It was obvious to Jason that his sister was falling in love with the Med-jai chieftain. He could see it in her eyes. . .in the way she smiled at him. . .and in her quiet trust of him.  
  
That hurt. Because Celia never trusted Jason, the way she trusted Ardeth Bey. It hurt even more, because he knew that he had no right to that trust. Not after today. His sister would likely forgive him, in time. In time, she usually did forgive. She even forgave their mother, though not their father. But Jason knew in his heart that after his betrayal today, it would be much harder to win his sister's trust back.  
  
All right. Winning his sister's forgiveness and her trust had to wait. In order for her to forgive him, and later, trust him, she had to be alive, and right now, Jason didn't think that was in the game plan for these fellows. Which meant, he would betray someone once again. . . namely, his former partners. He would make sure the Med-jai knew where to find them. . .and where Celia would be. //Think, Jason, think! You keep bitching about being just as good as Ardeth Bey. . .well, here's your chance to show it! There is a way you can help the Med-jai save your sister!//  
  
'There is a way. But it would require that you sacrifice yourself. Are you willing to do that, grandson?' a familiar voice asked. Jason froze, his hand sliding from Celia's forehead, to her shoulder. He prepared himself to protect his sister, by any means necessary. And then he looked up. . .to see his grandmother standing there. But she wasn't the old woman he remembered. . .no, she looked like a young girl of nineteen. All the more curious, however, was that she was dressed in deerskin, the clothes she wore when she lived among the savages.  
  
'I would not harm your sister, Jason, and you know it! Even now, as your foolish associates continue to drug her, Cecelia finds strength in the memories which she suppressed these many years. . .memories of whom she was. Whom she can be once more,' Annabelle replied. She smiled faintly, adding, 'When I lived among the People. . .I'll thank you not to refer to them as savages. . .I learned that drugs could open one's mind to the past and to the future.'  
  
Jason had a sick feeling he knew where this was going. He was proved correct when this young version of his grandmother continued, 'Because Cecelia is so deeply unconscious, I was able to show her the past. . .when she was Lady Ardath, one of the Med-jai matriarchs. . .and the beloved of Prince Rameses.' A wicked smile, which Jason recognized from his childhood, appeared, and his grandmother added, 'Prince Rameses, who has been reborn as Ardeth Bey.'  
  
WHAT???????? Before Jason could question her, however, she continued, 'But you wished to know what you could do, in order to save your sister. It means, as I said, that you must sacrifice yourself. And you will only be buying some time, but that may be all that we require to defeat Khaldun. Are you ready?' Jason looked briefly at his sister. . .then he looked back at his grandmother, and nodded. At the very least, he was ready to listen.  
  
. . .  
  
Evy once told him, not long after they got married, that she counted how many times he cleaned or checked his guns. She was teasing, of course, but her meaning was clear. What she didn't understand, at least not at first, was that to Rick O'Connell, ex-Legionnaire, ex-adventurer, and current husband and father, guns were security. For most of his life, they were the one thing he could count on. . .his guns and himself.  
  
Evy was holding to the agreement she made when she told Rick that she was going with them. Kaphiri was escorting her, Alex, Miranda, and Jonathan to the Med-jai encampment near Hamunaptra. . .where Ardeth's mother and two sisters waited for them. Rick would accompany Ardeth and the remaining Med-jai to the planned attack site. From what Ardeth told him this morning when Rick arrived in the chieftain's cabin, several of the tribes sent men.  
  
They would converge on the kidnappers, encircling them. By Ardeth's figuring, the kidnappers would become complacent on the barge, expecting a rescue attempt early on. That honestly didn't make sense to Rick. . .they wouldn't have time to plan a rescue so soon after the attack in the bazaar. Ardeth agreed, but pointed out that the expectation was for a retaliatory strike immediately after the kidnapping. Rick had to agree with that. There was just something about the human mind, which expected immediate retaliation.  
  
At the same time, he reminded Ardeth that the longer it took for a rescue to take place, the more nervous the bad guys should be. However, Ardeth again had an answer for him. (There were times when Rick *really* hated that about his friend) The chieftain pointed out to him that the kidnappers probably didn't think the Med-jai would react so strongly to the kidnapping of a young American woman in Cairo. He encountered that mentality before.  
  
Again, Rick had to concede Ardeth had a point. He *really* hated that. And so, once more, he sat in Ardeth's cabin, cleaning and double- checking his guns. Evy had rounded up the children and Jonathan, and were waiting with Kaphiri, since they would get off separately. Ardeth was moving a little stiffly, but his eyes were bright and alert. If Rick knew anything about the man now checking his own equipment, it was that he would do *what* needed to be done, and *when* it needed to be done.  
  
He asked, however, just because he knew Evy would nag him about it later, 'Are you all right?' Ardeth nodded, and Rick supposed he was lucky Ardeth hadn't answered him with a sarcastic remark about this not being his first raid. //No,// Rick thought ruefully, //that's my style, not his. Even though he never has answered me directly when I've asked him if he was all right. On the other hand, it was kinda obvious that he *wasn't* all right in London, not when he passed out practically at our feet.//  
  
And though he was sure Ardeth wouldn't appreciate the reminder, Rick added, 'Just wanted to make sure. We don't want you collapsing at my feet again. You ain't my type, buddy.' Ardeth glared at him, which relieved Rick's mind to no end. If he was okay enough to glare at Rick, then he was in good enough shape to take out these jackasses. Rick continued quietly, 'Seriously, though. . .Evy would kill me if you fell over in a heap on the sand.'  
  
'I believe you will be safe from your wife's wrath, O'Connell. . .I will not keel over,' Ardeth answered. Rick glared at him. . .didn't they settle this last night? Ardeth, however, had his back to the American. He continued after a moment, 'My main concern right now is Celia. I have told Jonathan I am afraid for her. If this is truly Khaldun. . .O'Connell, it is my fear that Khaldun will be worse than the Creature.'  
  
Worse than Imhotep? Was Ardeth kidding? Whoops, wait a minute, this was Ardeth Bey, the man who didn't have a sense of humor. Of course he wasn't kidding. And the American learned the hard way to listen when Ardeth said something. The Med-jai turned to face him, and as he feared, Ardeth's eyes were truly concerned. The American asked with some resignation, 'Okay, I'll bite. . .how can this guy possibly be any worse than our ol' buddy Imhotep?'  
  
'I am not proud of what my ancestors did, O'Connell, when they cast the hom-dai. But I live with the consequences. As all the Med-jai do, and have since the casting of the hom-dai. Imhotep deserved to be punished, yes, but not like that. Khaldun. . .Khaldun was evil. He took pleasure in killing, and in causing pain. If he has, indeed, returned, then he will be more dangerous than the Creature,' Ardeth replied quietly, with all the intensity which Rick expected from the Med-jai chieftain.  
  
But what he said, Rick never expected. He never heard the Med-jai express remorse for the casting of the hom-dai. . .and Rick realized with a start that Ardeth probably never spoke the words aloud to anyone, save members of his own immediately family. The American felt his mouth drying out with the implications of that. The trust that was given to him.  
  
So instead of mocking Ardeth's beliefs, to cover his own fear, Rick asked softly, 'How is it possible, if this Khaldun didn't get hit by the hom-dai, that we're dealing with him now? That was three thousand years ago, Ardeth.' The Med-jai sighed deeply and sat down on the bunk, massaging his temples. Rick finished loading his ammunition belt, then walked over to sit down beside him. He said, 'Ardeth, I remember being Terumun. I know whom Khaldun is. But there are missing pieces to my memory.'  
  
'According to our records. . .kept by the Med-jai captains of old. . .the younger brother of Hamadi Bey overheard Khaldun bragging about the murder of Lady Ardath, favorite concubine to the prince Rameses. He informed the prince. Rameses, in turn, requested that Imhotep, Terumun, and the general, Nassor, accompany him. It was their intent to abduct Khaldun and learn the truth. The plans changed, and instead of. . .and instead, they took him to Hamunaptra,' Ardeth replied. Rick felt very cold suddenly, as if a wind swept through him.  
  
'Khaldun bragged about murdering her. . .bragged, because his cousin loved her so much. And Rameses went insane with grief and rage. Imhotep told us to stay outside. He was so angry,' the American whispered, remembering. Knowing now that Ardeth was Rameses, he clearly saw his friend's grief-stricken face as Imhotep struggled to bring him under control. It was so strange. . .seeing Ardeth's face, without the markings, and Imhotep holding him back. He saw, too, Anck-su-namun sneaking into the city, though she thought she was not noticed.  
  
Rick continued after a moment, 'We heard his screams outside. . .Khaldun's screams. Nassor was weeping, because he loved Ardath as well. And he was. . .he was praying to Anubis, to Anpu, that Khaldun would suffer in each lifetime to come, for what he did. Then there was a silence, and Imhotep and Rameses came out. Imhotep told us that he bound Khaldun's spirit to Hamunaptra. . .Hamunaptra.'  
  
Rick raised his head to look at Ardeth. The American at last made the connection which Ardeth was trying to show him, and he breathed, 'My God. Khaldun swore as he died that it wouldn't end with him. I heard that. . .and when Imhotep decided to resurrect Anck-su-namun, he took her to the City of the Dead! Khaldun was waiting for him. . .and for the Med- jai. I was there, Ardeth! I remember now! On the way to the City of the Dead, we only discussed stopping Imhotep. Nothing was ever said about invoking the hom-dai!'  
  
Now images were flooding through his head. The madness shining from Hamadi Bey's eyes seemed to be shared by all the Med-jai, save one. Terumun. Rick closed his eyes against the memories, and Ardeth said softly, 'He wanted you to be the only one unaffected, my friend. He wanted you to remember, and to know his power. He wanted you to despair. He feeds on pain, O'Connell, on pain and loneliness, hatred and grief.' Rick opened his eyes and looked at Ardeth.  
  
'And resentment. The other Med-jai were angry with Rameses, for blaming them for Ardath's murder, so it was easier for Khaldun to corrupt them,' the American said. Ardeth nodded, though he looked somewhat puzzled. Rick, however, was trying to puzzle something else. Rameses was reborn as Ardeth, a Med-jai. Why, then, in all the times Ardeth was in Hamunaptra, did Khaldun never try to take his revenge on the reincarnation of his cousin?  
  
Rick was on the verge of asking Ardeth just that, when he remembered that Ardeth had no memory of his previous life. And since they were about to go into battle, he really didn't think now was the time to remind his friend that he was once a homicidal maniac, either. Ardeth asked softly, 'Are you ready, O'Connell?' Rick looked up, and nodded. Yeah, it was time to get this show on the road. 


	11. The Rescue

Part Ten  
  
Evy O'Connell didn't like the idea of leaving her husband and chosen brother to rescue her best friend, but for once, she wouldn't argue with them. Evy knew that to be among that party would only distract Rick and Ardeth. Distractions meant death, and Evy was unwilling to have their deaths, or Celia's, on her conscience. She had to think about others right now: her other brother, her son, and little Miranda.  
  
And so they left the barge with Kaphiri leading the way. More than once, Evy looked over her shoulder at the Med-jai following the kidnappers into the open desert. She knew from listening to the others that the trap would be sprung. Evy could only hope that the kidnappers weren't smart enough to realize that they were being followed. And she thought she was being so discreet in her observation.  
  
At least, she thought that until Kaphiri said softly, 'We will not go all the way to the encampment, Mrs. O'Connell. We can watch the battle from a safe distance, then continue to our camp near Hamunaptra once the battle is over.' Evy looked at the Med-jai and the man shrugged, 'The chieftain said only that I was to get you, Mr. Carnahan, and the children to safety. He said nothing about not watching the battle.'  
  
'You are a very sneaky Med-jai,' Evy said with a mixture of surprise, awe, and amusement. She was gifted with a mischievous smile. Something she learned: despite their fearsome appearance, the Med-jai did *indeed* have a sense of humor. A rather wicked sense of humor at that! Evy continued, still smiling, 'You know, each time I've encountered you fellows, I've learned something new about you. Well, actually, most of the time, I find myself learning about Ardeth. But these last two times, I've learned more about the Med-jai as well.'  
  
'Then you are a wise woman, indeed,' Kaphiri replied promptly, 'because you do learn. And you have our chieftain's trust. He does not speak with most people. Even from most Med-jai does Ardeth protect his fears and his loneliness. Some of us see anyhow, though he tries hard to hide it. His heart and soul are both carefully guarded, in part because of his brother's murder at the hands of Lock-nah. But you are different, Evelyn O'Connell, you and your family. You have become part of his family, despite your. . .difficult beginnings.'  
  
Evy thought back to her first meeting with Ardeth, and blushed. Yes, he was right about that. At the time, of course, she didn't realize that he was the reincarnation of her brother, from thousands of years ago. She only knew that he was trying to prevent her from accomplishing her dream. Foolish little girl. Evy realized now that she never asked herself why he was so intent on driving them away from Hamunaptra. She could only see what she wanted.  
  
She supposed that was part of the reason for her protectiveness after Imhotep's first rising. Her discovery that she could have killed so many people, because of her stubborn refusal. There was also the fact that Ardeth prevented Rick from getting himself killed before the final battle. Live today, fight tomorrow, he said. And at the time of her rescue, as Hamunaptra sank into the sands, Evy didn't know about Ardeth's attempt to sacrifice himself. Live today, fight tomorrow, indeed!  
  
That, of course, was far from their last adventure together. During their next adventure, she and Rick learned that Ardeth was much younger than they previously thought. Only twenty-six years old at the time of Imhotep's rising, Ardeth was a boy of seventeen when he assumed the mantle of leadership, following the death of his older brother. Andreas. Evy wondered, if the Med-jai ever thought about what would have happened. . .if Andreas was alive and if he led them during the risings. . .  
  
'No longer,' Kaphiri said. Evy looked at the Med-jai in surprise, and Kaphiri continued, 'We stopped wondering what would have happened, many years ago. After the Creature's first uprising. Some of the elders questioned Ardeth's judgment in letting you live. But Garai put a stop to that. He had a dream. . .a vision. Of what would have happened, if Andreas Bey lived, and if he led us at that time.'  
  
Judging from Kaphiri's words, Evy had the unsettled feeling that things would have been much different. . .in a very bad way. The Med-jai continued slowly, with a sideways glance at Alex, 'In our first raid on Hamunaptra. . .I was there. But if Andreas Bey led us, there would have been no withdrawal, when your husband lit his stick of dynamite. And Ardeth Bey would have died in the ensuing explosion.'  
  
Evy's hand went to her throat, and Kaphiri continued, 'Andreas would have sworn revenge on Rick O'Connell. . .and killed him during their next meeting. There would have been no alliance. The Creature would have successfully sacrificed you to bring Anck-su-namun back from the dead, and the Med-jai would have been destroyed. In the end, much as it pains us to know this, it was for the best that Andreas Bey died sixteen years ago. Lock-nah ended his life, and, to use your husband's saying, shot himself in the foot.'  
  
Evy felt dizzy at this series of revelations. To think, the fate of so many rested on that moment when Lock-nah cut down the twenty-two year old Med-jai chieftain, and leadership passed to his young brother. Certainly, Lock-nah tried to correct that, when he attacked her friend at Evy's house. . .but in the end, he paid for the pain he caused. To Andreas, to Ardeth, and to so many others. Evy would not cry for him. . .but she could, and would, mourn for a young boy who was forced to grow up so fast.  
  
But for now, Kaphiri added, 'Look. It begins.' Evy directed her attention to where Kaphiri was indicating. The caravan, holding her best friend. Her best friend. When, exactly, did that happen? It didn't matter. Celia was her best friend. Another imbalance corrected, because Nefertiri should have loved the girl who made her brother so happy, if only for a time. But that was what lifetimes were for. . .to correct the mistakes of the past.  
  
. . .  
  
The dreams continued to guide Celia through her previous lifetime, showing her all but the actual hour of Ardath's murder. She knew how it happened, of course, but she didn't experience it. Something else would happen, it seemed. She caught her breath as memories surged through her. . .of their first kiss, the first time Rameses made love to Ardath. And it *was* lovemaking. He spent several months, gently seducing his foreign concubine.  
  
He would not take her. He took before, and it brought him no pleasure. There was also the knowledge of what Anck-su-namun would do to him, if ever he harmed her beloved friend. Rameses was no fool. He knew that his father's favorite mistress was dangerous and ruthless, and when she was protecting those whom she loved, she was even more so. Prince or not, he would not cross her.  
  
And, he didn't *want* to hurt Ardath. It was as if all of his protective instincts were brought forth by this shy young girl with a spine of pure steel. Celia was in deep, when she re-experienced that magical first night. And she envied Ardath, because Carstairs never made her feel like that. Despite her exotic looks, Ardath was not considered beautiful, not like Anck-su-namun, and she knew it. She was neither beautiful, nor particularly gifted in the arts of war or battle. But she was intelligent, and she was a good listener.  
  
These two attributes, perhaps, were what drew Rameses to her. Ardath, even in modern times, would not be considered an extraordinary woman. But she was a good friend, a good listener, and she rarely judged others. She did have a temper, but she forgave just as easily. Unless the harm you did was to someone whom she loved, in which case, she could be just as ruthless as Anck-su-namun. Or rather, she could be even more ruthless.  
  
She remembered the birth of Ardath's son, a joyous occasion after her miscarriage. Anck never left Ardath's side through the birth. . .since Rameses was not permitted into the room, Anck swore she would not leave. She held Ardath's hand through the entire birth, gently wiping her face with a cloth and cooling her down. Ardath was the first to hold her precious new son. . . and Anck was the second.  
  
It was the first time Ardath saw such tenderness in Anck's eyes, directed at someone other than herself. Not even Imhotep warranted such tenderness, such adoration. Anck held her tiny nephew, tenderly kissing his forehead and whispering, 'You shall be the child of my heart, my precious little one, the son of your mother. If I never have children with the man I love, then you will be my greatest treasure.'  
  
Both the child and Ardath were cleaned up, then Rameses was brought into the room. He fell to his knees beside the woman he loved, sobbing brokenly. He heard the screams in the hall and feared the worst. But his Ardath was safely delivered of his son, and his son was safe also. What more could any man want? And true to form, Rameses, feared prince of Egypt, was totally undone by this tiny, defenseless babe. It was there, then, that the dreams began to fade away, leaving Celia with a yearning for what Ardath had, albeit briefly.  
  
Toward dawn, the last of the sedation began wearing off. . .by the time Celia was in full control of her faculties, it was mid-morning, and she was thrown rather unceremoniously over the back of a camel. She hated hanging upside down, she hated being drugged, and she really hated being this hot! And what was that awful stench? Something rough scratched her skin, and she understood. Ohhhhh, splendid! She was hot because the bastards wrapped her in a rug, a la Cleopatra! No wonder she felt so sick!  
  
Celia closed her eyes, trying desperately to avoid hyperventilating. Unfortunately, while she wasn't really claustrophobic, there was little room to breathe within the carpet. For the first time since she regained consciousness, she had time to think about her kidnapping. She still flinched when she remembered seeing that club descend on Ardeth's head and watching him crumple to the ground in a mass of black robes. //Let him be okay,// she prayed silently, not sure to whom she was praying, //please let him be all right. . .and please, don't let my baby see what happened.// She knew there was a good chance Miranda did see, but she needed a focus.  
  
This focus was twofold. . .first and foremost, it would keep her from passing out again or throwing up. That would have been the height of indignity, and Celia was grasping to keep what little remained of her pride. The other reason was, as she thought about the attack in the bazaar, she started getting angry. She wasn't entirely sure where to focus her anger, but she didn't fight the rising fury. She might need it, after all.  
  
A cry broke the stillness of the day, and Celia froze. Were they being attacked by bandits? There were stories, of course. . .and at this point, Celia *really* didn't think she would be lucky enough to be the focus of a Med-jai rescue operation, not this soon. She heard screams around her, and she struggled to free herself inside the carpet. It was a hard enough task, freeing oneself, but trying to free oneself from the confines of a rolled-up carpet qualified as impossible.  
  
However, at the same time, she felt someone nearby, and a voice was whispering. Celia struggled to pay attention, and heard, 'They've come for you, Celia. . .the Med-jai have come for you. They were on the bloody barge, and no one noticed but me! I hope you can forgive me, my sister. . .you were always the strong one.' Jason! Celia remembered struggling with her brother in the bazaar, and she was on the point of asking him what was going on, when she felt the carpet move. Then she, and the carpet, hit the sand with a 'thump.'  
  
Well, this was both a good thing and a bad thing. It was a good thing, for she was off that camel, and no longer hanging upside down. The bad part was, the carpet still holding her was now on the sand and thus, she was in danger of getting trampled, by horses and camels, kidnappers and Med-jai alike. Celia again tried to free herself, hoping that her somewhat more comfortable position would allow her a little more flexibility. No go.  
  
She heard someone yelling something in Arabic. At least, she *thought* it was in Arabic. The voice sounded somewhat familiar, but wrapped in a few layers of carpet, it was hard to be certain. There was the sound of steel clashing with steel, grunts and moans as flesh connected with flesh. And still Celia squirmed in her bonds, determined not to behave like that little fool Pauline in 'The Perils of Pauline.'  
  
There was a cry of pain. . .someone dying. And then Celia was being dragged along by the edge of the carpet, the edge nearest her feet. Her sense of direction was totally turned around, but she *thought* she was being pulled in the opposite direction. Well. . .yes, actually that would make sense. Unless, of course. . .//oh, do stop being such a little fool, Celia,// she scolded herself, //you. . .oh Isis. What was that?//  
  
Something went 'thud' against the carpet. . .something heavy. Like a body? She couldn't be sure, and there was no time to think about it, for Celia began rolling away from wherever she was. She squeezed her eyes shut and couldn't help screaming, a scream which was quickly cut off by the lack of air inside her tightly wound prison. She coughed, and Celia's previous struggle to maintain dignity was slowly giving way to her struggle just to live. While she was protected from the burning sun, she wasn't protected from the heat.  
  
She was slowly baking to death inside the carpet, and what was all the more terrifying was the very knowledge that she was likely dying. She was dying, and could do nothing about it. Without a miracle of some kind, she couldn't save herself. That thought fueled her already burning rage, and served to make her furious beyond anything she ever felt before. Even when Carstairs sent his goons chasing after her, she was more afraid than angry. The anger came later. This time, the transition from fear to anger was much quicker.  
  
In the past two days, she was chloroformed, saw someone she cared for knocked unconscious, betrayed by a member of her own family, drugged, remembered her past life as a young concubine murdered before she turned twenty-one. She was rolled inside a rug, thrown over the back of a camel like so much refuse, and now this! Admittedly, she was no longer thinking at that point, but she began kicking at the rolls of carpet surrounding her. . .perhaps in the hopes of kicking herself free.  
  
There was a battle going on around her. There shouldn't have been anyone nearby. But suddenly the carpet was coming undone around her, and someone grabbed Celia by her shoulders, lifting her up out of her prison. She screamed then, unable to see who had her. Then she heard the voice. . .the very last voice she expected to hear, whispering, 'You are safe, Celia! I have felt the sting of your knee once, I do not wish for a repeat.'  
  
At the sound of the familiar, safe voice, Celia stopped struggling. It couldn't be. He was hit so hard, he would still be unconscious or at least confined to bed. But as gentle hands removed the blindfold which Celia never realized was there, her silent hopes were confirmed. After she blinked a few times, the solemn, handsome features of Ardeth Bey came into focus. But he could have been a mummy himself, and still he would have been the most beautiful sight in the world to the tired, sore, frightened, half-sick young woman.  
  
Ardeth smiled at her gently, whispering her name as he cupped her face in his hands. He turned her face this way and that, looking for bruises or any other signs of mistreatment. When no bruises were found, he gently wiped moisture away from her cheeks with his thumbs. With a sob, Celia threw herself forward, ignoring that her hands were still bound. Ardeth came for her. He was here. She was safe. For the moment at least, her nightmare was over.  
  
. . .  
  
He sat atop his horse, watching as his men surrounded the kidnappers. The silent leader saw Jason Ferguson dismount and approach one of the camels bearing a load. That was how Ardeth knew which camel carried Celia Ferguson. He would have never known, as only a blanket or carpet was visible. Most likely a carpet. Which meant Celia was inside the rug. Oh, those bastards! Ardeth swallowed his fury, and instead told Garai in Arabic, 'Let it be known to the men. Celia Ferguson is within that rug. Aim carefully.'  
  
He turned to his opposite side. Rick O'Connell rode beside him, but the American pulled back ever so slightly when Ardeth told Anatol the same thing. Once the word was passed down the line, Ardeth told Rick what he saw. O'Connell looked at him and said what Ardeth was thinking, 'She's gonna be dehydrated, may even have heat stroke.' Ardeth nodded grimly, and the American shook his head in disgust.  
  
'Yes, I. . .what is he doing?' Ardeth asked in surprise, watching as the young traitor pulled out a knife. Time just ran out. The Med-jai chieftain drew his scimitar and, holding it high over his head, called the order to attack. At the very least, the attack would buy Celia a few moments. Ardeth and his Med-jai, accompanied by O'Connell, swept down the sand dunes toward the kidnappers. Ardeth focused solely on the objective, nothing else.  
  
They were engaged immediately, but just as Jonathan and Evelyn cleared a path for O'Connell only a few months earlier, when they rescued Alex at Ahm Shere, the Med-jai now cleared a path for O'Connell and Ardeth. Anatol fired most often, Ardeth vaguely noted. As they drew closer, Ardeth's heart hammered in his chest as Jason Ferguson leaned closer to the camel with his sister. He would not get there in time, he. . .  
  
But it was then that Jason Ferguson surprised him. For, instead of driving his knife into the rug, the boy was instead cutting the ropes which bound the carpet to the camel, which bound it and steadied it. A half second after that, the rug thumped to the sand, and Jason Ferguson leapt back onto his horse and rode toward Hamunaptra. A quick glance around him told Ardeth that only five of his men were free to chase the American.  
  
'Go after him!' Ardeth yelled in Arabic, flinging himself from his horse and racing toward the carpet. He found his way blocked by a rather large man with empty eyes. Around him, the chieftain heard screams of rage and pain as his Med-jai were locked in combat. Nearby, Anatol ably defended himself against an attacker. Ardeth raised his scimitar and growled, once more in Arabic, 'Get. . .out. . .of. . .my. . .way!' In answer, his opponent lunged for Ardeth.  
  
But Ardeth was waiting for such an opportunity. During the last twenty-four hours, ever since the attack at the bazaar, Ardeth struggled to keep his rage in check, focusing on the necessity of a workable plan to rescue Celia. Now, however, that moment was at hand and someone was trying to keep him from his goal. Ardeth's fury finally had an outlet, and the Med-jai attacked with a wild cry of fury and triumph.  
  
For a dizzying moment, he found himself back in Ahm Shere, battling Lock-nah. But only for a moment, as it took him less time to dispatch this zombie than it had to deal with his brother's murderer and his sister's rapist. Ardeth looked around him and realized the battle was moving too close to the helpless woman still trapped within the carpet. He wasn't about to risk Celia's life, so he grabbed the rug and started pulling it from the line of fire.  
  
At his side, O'Connell kept up a constant barrage of fire, shooting any attacker who even came near the pair. Unfortunately, however, while his back was turned, taking out one attacker, another got through and tackled Ardeth. The chieftain went sprawling into the sand and the carpet, sending the strange little prison rolling away. O'Connell spun around and fired two blasts from his shotgun, preventing the attacker from finishing the job.  
  
The American helped Ardeth to his feet, exclaiming, 'Go after her. . .I'll keep them busy!' He punctuated this with a nod of his head toward the remaining kidnappers. Ardeth inclined his head in agreement and raced after the carpet. It didn't get far, fortunately. The chieftain had no desire to chase a rug halfway across the desert. Celia was evidently trying to kick her way free and Ardeth carefully sliced the ropes binding the carpet with a dagger he carried in his boot.  
  
Once the rug was undone, Ardeth reached inside and grabbed Celia's shoulders, pulling her upright. She screamed, her body jerking frantically. There was no thought in her actions; she was simply reacting. A quick glance told him why. . .she was blindfolded, and she didn't know who had her. Remembering the last time he frightened her, Ardeth told her, 'You are safe, Celia! I have felt the sting of your knee once, I do not wish for a repeat.' Celia froze at the sound of his voice, all struggles ceasing. He saw her lips form his name, and now that he was sure she wouldn't blindly attack him, Ardeth removed the blindfold.  
  
All the while, he took note of her condition. Her dark hair was matted to her face and skull by rivers of sweat. Celia blinked a few times, then her eyes focused on him. Ardeth gave her a tender smile, grateful to see the recognition there. Recognition and gratitude. For coming after her? He wasn't sure, but he was still ascertaining her condition. He turned her face from side to side, checking for any bruises. There were none, but he did notice a red mark abrading her right temple.  
  
Tears made trails on her dirty face, and Ardeth gently brushed away the moisture with his thumbs. She fell into him, sobbing quietly, and the chieftain wrapped his arms around her protectively. O'Connell joined them, along with Alekos, commander of the Geban tribe, and after a moment, Ardeth pulled back. He could feel Celia's body tensing. . .when he looked down into her face, he could see why. She was trying to put a brave mask back into place.  
  
Instead of commenting on it, he checked her bonds. . .they tied her hands behind her back. O'Connell saw as well and knelt down beside them, carefully untangling the knots. A quick glance from his American friend told Ardeth what he needed to know. Celia tried to undo her bonds herself. Her wrists were more raw than they should have been, even with the heat of the day and the kind of rope used. Still, O'Connell was able to get her hands free, and Ardeth felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders.  
  
She rubbed her hands over her face, still shuddering. Respecting her need to reclaim some of her pride, Ardeth glanced back at his American friend and Alekos, silently asking them to give them a few moments. Both the commander and O'Connell backed up, though Ardeth could feel two pairs of eyes burning into his back. He gave that little thought, however. Instead, he said softly, 'We must leave here, and go to our camp. Can you ride?'  
  
Celia gave a little sniff, then whispered, 'As long as I'm right side up, and not thrown over the back of a camel in a rug, I'll be fine.' Ardeth barely managed to stop himself from smiling at that remark. She gave him a weak little smile and added, 'It's okay if you smile, Ardeth, I won't get mad at you.' Ardeth simply inclined his head and motioned Alekos forward. Together, the Med-jai carefully lifted the woman onto the waiting horse, then Ardeth swung up behind her. He made eye contact with his younger brother. Good. Anatol was all right.  
  
She leaned against him, whispering, 'I hope this is all right. . .that I'm not breaking some taboo or rule among your people, but. . .' Ardeth silenced her by drawing her more comfortably against his chest. At this point, it was rather silly to be worrying about such things, but here again, she was trying to maintain her dignity. Ardeth did it enough times, he understood what she was up to, even if she didn't. Slowly, hesitantly, her arms wrapped around his waist, and despite the heat of the day, she snuggled closer to him.  
  
'There is nothing in our laws which says a rescued friend may not request support from a Med-jai. Indeed, I would be a poor excuse for a friend if I withheld that support from you at this time, or any other time when you required it,' Ardeth replied quietly. //And I have already failed you once,// he thought, //I will not fail you again.// Which was why he ignored the pounding in his head. He would deal with his own difficulties later. He still had work to do.  
  
Celia was silent, and Ardeth wondered if she fell asleep or passed out. Neither was good. With his free hand, he touched her face, drawing it up and toward him. Her eyes opened and focused on him. He smiled down at her gently, and she smiled back. Again, that brave mask was in place. Not that he truly expected anything else. A cough to his right drew his attention. O'Connell handed him a canteen, saying softly, 'Here. . .I think she could use some water.'  
  
Ardeth accepted it gratefully. He should have thought of that sooner, but his desire to get her away from this place overwhelmed all else. As he put Celia up on his horse, he checked to see if any black-clad forms littered the sand. Much to his relief, there were none. None dead, and he had yet to be informed of the number of injuries among his men. On the other hand, he usually didn't get that report until they were in camp. One thing at a time.  
  
. . .  
  
It was so ridiculously easy, Rick was still trying to figure out what would go wrong. Then again, they never figured on Jason Ferguson suddenly developing a conscience and cutting his sister free, then taking off alone toward Hamunaptra. Ardeth dispatched five Med-jai to go after him. . .he could only spare those five, as the rest would be needed in the battle. That part went wrong. There were more with the kidnappers than original intelligence told them.  
  
But the battle itself was easy. Rick and Ardeth fought their way toward the camel which remained beside the carpet holding Celia. Once they were within striking range, Rick took care of any of the kidnappers who came near Ardeth as he pulled Celia toward safety. Ardeth yelled something in Arabic which Rick didn't understand. . .however, the Med-jai did. They swarmed in, reminding Rick of huge, highly annoyed black bees.  
  
They weren't out of the woods just yet, however. As Ardeth pulled Celia to safety, Rick turned slowly in place, taking out anyone who wasn't Med-jai. It was while his back was turned that someone got through and slammed full force into Ardeth. The impact sent the chieftain sprawling into Celia's carpet, and it started rolling away from them. Rick blasted the sucker, and Ardeth scrambled to his feet, chasing after the carpet. Rick didn't know if Ardeth also heard Celia's scream inside, but he wouldn't bet against it.  
  
Rick watched Ardeth's back on the way down the sandy slope, as Ardeth did for him so many times, and blasted any non Med-jai who came close to his friend. He almost laughed when he heard Ardeth sooth Celia, telling her that she was safe and he didn't want her knee in his groin again. By this time, there were only black robes still upright, so Rick knelt beside Celia and helped Ardeth untie her.  
  
The poor girl's face was bright red, and Rick didn't think her tears had anything to do with it. Being rolled inside that carpet had to have been hot. She was sobbing quietly into Ardeth's robes, just slumped against him. The commander of one of the other tribes. . .Rick thought Ardeth said his name was Alekos. . .approached with Ardeth's horse, and after a look from his friend, turned away from the pair.  
  
Rick understood what Ardeth was trying to do. He also understood what Celia was trying to do, and he could sure as hell respect it. After everything she went through in the last few days, if she needed a few minutes to compose herself, she would get that time. After a few moments, the chieftain gently lifted Celia into his arms, put her on the horse, then swung up behind her. Another Med-jai brought Rick's horse back to him, and Rick followed suit.  
  
Nothing was said at first, at least, nothing loud enough for the American to hear. He did see the way Celia curled against Ardeth, and the Med-jai chieftain's protective shielding. However, he realized with a start that the other American was probably dehydrated and to that end, Rick removed his canteen from his pack. He handed it to his friend, saying softly, 'Here. . .I think she could use some water.'  
  
Ardeth accepted with a grateful smile, and shifted Celia in his arms until he could get a little water down her. Celia was actually riding sidesaddle, so it wasn't as hard as it could have been. Rick was actually reminded of taking care of Evy or Alex when they were sick. Celia obediently drank a few sips of water, whimpering softly when Ardeth took it away. The chieftain whispered something to her, gently kissing the top of her head.  
  
Rick felt almost dirty, watching Ardeth care for Celia. Like he was intruding on something which no one else should see. Ardeth whispered, 'I will give you more in a few moments, Celia. I know you are dehydrated, and you need water. But I do not wish for you to be ill from too much water at once.' Rick removed a handkerchief from his front pocket and handed it to Ardeth. His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Rick pantomimed face-washing.  
  
Ardeth's eyes lit up and he mouthed a 'thank you.' Rick watched as he dribbled some water on the handkerchief, then began gently wiping Celia's face and neck. It had the dual purpose of cleaning her up a little and cooling her down. Bastards. They never intended for her to reach Hamunaptra alive. Which, if Ardeth was right (IF??), would have made Khaldun very, very angry. What was the fun, after all, in tormenting a dead woman?  
  
The commander of the Geban tribe approached Ardeth with news of the other Med-jai. None died during the attack, but there were some injuries. And all through the report, Ardeth's hand never left Celia's face. Again, making Rick feel like a voyeur. It only took a half hour to ride to the camp outside Hamunaptra, and all during that time, Ardeth talked to Celia in a low, gentle voice. Rick couldn't understand half of what he said, and he was sure Celia couldn't either, but it really made no difference. Celia seemed comforted by Ardeth's presence, by his voice, and so she rested. Ever so often, Rick would glance over at the pair riding beside him, and each time, he saw rage contorting Ardeth's features.  
  
Rick O'Connell knew Ardeth for seven years. And never, not even when they raised Imhotep, did he see the other man look that angry. The American was on the verge of asking Ardeth if this had to do with his attraction to Celia, but decided that might not be such a great idea. While the raid went well. . .one of the zombies was captured, there were no Med-jai dead, and the injuries were slight. . .Rick realized his friend wasn't feeling well.  
  
As the Med-jai rode into the camp, they were quickly surrounded by wives and children. Rick jumped from his horse as a boy took the reins, and ran to Evy and Alex. Miranda was with a woman whom Rick didn't know, and who placed the little girl in Jonathan's arms. Alex threw himself at Rick. A glance over his shoulder told him that Ardeth eased Celia into Garai's arms with a whispered instruction. The old man nodded, then carried the American woman away.  
  
Rick was vaguely aware of Evy asking him if anyone was hurt. Ardeth didn't look very well, and was Rick hurt? What about Celia, why was Garai carrying her? Rick cupped his wife's face in his hands and said softly, 'I think Celia is suffering from heat stroke, maybe dehydration. They put her inside a rug, rolled her up, then threw her over the back of a camel. She was in there for a while. I figure she's being taken to a tent where they can cool her down.'  
  
He paused, then continued, 'Don't tell him I said so, but I don't think Ardeth looks very good, either. I think he's starting to get a headache again, but he's been focused on getting Celia to safety.' Evy bit her lip, looking very worried, and Rick added, 'Evy, honey, don't push him. He'll rest when he gets the information he needs. The Med-jai didn't have any dead, but they do have some injuries, and Ardeth wants to know their names.'  
  
'And now that Celia is safe, he can let go,' Jonathan added softly. He smiled then, bravely, at Miranda and said, 'You see there? I told you. . .your mum will be just fine. She just needs to rest, and then we'll take you to her, all right?' Miranda nodded, and for the first time, Rick looked at the frightened little girl. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she smiled back. A brave smile which reminded Rick of her mother.  
  
'You listen to Jonathan, honey. . .your mommy's gonna be just fine. Right now, though, they gotta make sure she isn't sick. When they know that, they'll come get you, okay?' Rick asked. Again, Miranda nodded with that brave little smile. Rick gently ruffled the dark brown hair and realized Miranda never asked about her uncle. She didn't ask about Ardeth, either, but he did see her looking toward the warrior.  
  
'And Ardeth is okay? Those bad men didn't hurt him again?' Miranda asked worriedly. Rick glanced over his shoulder, to see Ardeth steady himself against his horse as he talked to Alekos. //Damn idiot,// he thought, conveniently ignoring all the times he did the same thing.  
  
Still, Ardeth was still on his feet, and Rick answered, 'No, those bad men didn't hurt him again. Why don't we get inside one of these tents and rest a little while?' If Ardeth did collapse, Rick didn't want this little girl to see it. That thought startled him. When, exactly, did he start caring about people other than Evy and Alex? When did those protective shields start to fall? What did it matter, in the end? Miranda was a little girl. Her mother couldn't care for herself right now, much less take care of Miranda. . .why shouldn't he help to take care of her? Why not, indeed?  
  
. . .  
  
Acacia Bey was watching her children play when word came to the village. Her brothers were nearby. . .carrying out a raid. That thoroughly confused the young woman, and she pushed herself to her feet. What was Ardeth doing out here, when he and Anatol were supposed to be on holiday in Cairo? She gathered up her children, taking them to her younger sister Aleta, then went from there to her mother's tent. However, Altair Bey was not there.  
  
Instead, the eldest daughter of Altair and Suleiman found her mother at the outskirts of the village, watching a small party of riders heading toward them. In the lead was Kaphiri, followed by a young woman, a man, and two children. Acacia's mother said quietly, 'Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell.' Evelyn O'Connell? The woman who summoned Imhotep, then remained in Egypt to help Acacia's brother defeat him?  
  
'Why are they here, Mother?' Acacia asked. Altair shook her head slowly, but said nothing. Acacia was un-nerved by her mother's silence. Many adjectives were used to describe Altair Bey during Acacia's life. Beautiful. . .stubborn. . .impulsive. . .over-protective. The last was usually mentioned when discussing her relationships with Acacia and Ardeth in particular, though she was protective of all four remaining children.  
  
But silent was never a word Acacia would have used to describe her mother. At last, Altair said softly, 'I do not know, my daughter. I only hope your brothers have not gotten themselves into another adventure.' She spat out that last word, as if it sickened her. Acacia put her arm around her mother's shoulders, knowing all too well what her mother meant. Ardeth in particular barely survived the last 'adventure,' and he was still putting the pieces of his heart and soul back together.  
  
As Kaphiri rode into the village, his first words were to reassure Altair and Acacia, saying, 'There has been a raid, m'lady. Yesterday, a young woman under our chieftain's protection was kidnapped from the bazaar. Ardeth successfully led a raid to rescue her. The child on the horse with Jonathan Carnahan is her daughter.'  
  
Acacia looked at the man, only now realizing that this was Evelyn Carnahan's brother, and saw that a small girl sat in front of him on the horse. She was no more than four years old, a pretty child with a worried expression. A quick glance toward her mother told Acacia that Altair was staring at the child as well. Then a gentle smile appeared and Altair swept forward. She said to the little girl, 'I am Altair, mother of Ardeth. Would you like to wait with me?'  
  
The little girl looked up at Jonathan questioningly, and the Englishman nodded. He eased her off the horse and into Altair's waiting arms. Acacia watched in silence, barely able to hold back a smile. Her mother raised five children, had two grandchildren, and she could never resist another small one. And Altair's fate was sealed once more as the little girl asked, 'You're Ardeth's mommy? You're pretty, too.'  
  
Altair enfolded the child in an embrace, her smile brightening at the little girl's words. Acacia almost doubled over laughing. Pretty, was it? Oh, this would be a new way for her to tease her older brother. Pretty, indeed! The little girl added, 'Who is that lady?' Acacia looked around, only to realize that the little one meant Acacia herself. The woman looked back at the child, amused by her forthrightness.  
  
'That is my daughter, Acacia. She is Ardeth's younger sister,' Altair answered, carrying the little girl as Jonathan Carnahan, his sister, and nephew all dismounted. Their horses were led away by young warriors in training, those who were too young to fight alongside the adults. They had the skills needed to defend the village, but not Hamunaptra. Not yet. There were many times, over the last sixteen years. . .ever since the death of her oldest brother. . .when Acacia wished she could keep these young warriors at this age forever.  
  
Acacia was once more on the receiving end of an intense look, then the little girl announced, 'She's pretty, too. You're pretty, she's pretty, Ardeth's pretty, and so is Anatol. Is everyone in your family pretty?' Acacia almost lost control of her laughter at that point. She was getting more and more ammunition to use against both of her brothers! And she didn't even know the name of this little girl yet! However, that was not important. Obviously, this child was quite infatuated with Ardeth. Oh, how she could tease him with this!  
  
'Yes, dear child, everyone in my family is pretty. At least, I think so, but I am their mother, and I should think my children are pretty. Now, you know our names, you must tell us your name,' Altair answered patiently. Acacia waited to take the Carnahan-O'Connell family members to a tent, as she wanted two things to happen. First, to find out what the little girl's name was, and second, to hear what other wonderful bits of blackmail information she could use against her brothers. After all, that was part of a sister's job, was it not?  
  
'Miranda! My name is Miranda Ferguson, and I'm four years old. My mommy's name is Celia. I think Ardeth likes her. How come you don't have those marks on your face. . .you're Ardeth's mommy, you should have them, too,' the little girl answered. Acacia blinked, then looked over at Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell. Marks on their faces. . .Ardeth likes her mother? The Englishwoman was grinning broadly. Why did that make Acacia very, very nervous?  
  
Acacia's mother started to answer, then noticed Acacia still standing in the same place. She glared at the younger woman, a glare which Acacia's older brother learned, then honed as the leader of their people. Acacia instantly moved toward the other newcomers. She knew that Ardeth regarded Evelyn as another younger sister, and decided that the English adventuress would be her best hope of getting information about Miranda's mother.  
  
However, this wasn't to be. . .for as Acacia started toward the Carnahans, a great shout echoed through the village. The warriors were returning home! The Carnahans moved toward the returning warriors, and for the first time, Acacia realized that no mention was made of Rick O'Connell. She saw why now. He was with her brothers, as one of the rescuers. Acacia turned away from the returning warriors, knowing that her mother would want to make sure both of her boys were all right.  
  
She headed back to her sister's home, where Aleta was playing with Acacia's two children. Sometimes, when she looked at her son, seven year old Darius, Acacia saw her oldest brother Andreas, when he was a small boy. Acacia was a year younger than Ardeth (actually, she was eleven months younger, but that last month was ignored), and six years younger than Andreas. But she had vague memories of the child Andreas nonetheless.  
  
Aleta looked up as Darien threw himself at Acacia, and asked, 'Is everything all right, sister?' Acacia nodded, lifting Darius into her arms. Her son was born after her first husband's death at Hamunaptra, during the first skirmish with the Americans. She took another husband, who deserted the Med-jai not long after their daughter was created. After his desertion, Acacia refused to take any more husbands, and Med-jai society did not force a widow to remarry.  
  
'Yes. . .it seems our darling brother cut short his own holiday, because a girl under his protection was abducted from Cairo yesterday morning,' Acacia replied. Aleta did not look surprised, but then, Acacia believed there were few things about their elder brother that surprised Aleta. Her younger sister was more like Ardeth in temperament. Ardeth did have a temper, and he could be quite. . . fiery on occasion. But he was far more levelheaded than Andreas was, even when he was a boy.  
  
He was more levelheaded than Andreas, and more levelheaded than Acacia herself. It was almost as if Ardeth was given the common sense which Andreas lacked. Perhaps the fate of her eldest brother was foretold, and the ancient gods gave Ardeth the gifts he would need, in order to safely lead their people. Aleta said quietly, referring to the news of the raid, 'This should not surprise you, sister. Have you ever known Ardeth to be anything but responsible and a protector?'  
  
No, she had not. Four year old Damara tugged at Aunt Aleta's shoulder, reminding Acacia of the little girl she saw first with Jonathan Carnahan, then with her mother. Acacia was on the verge of speaking, when there was a rustle behind her. She turned, at the same time Aleta called, 'Yes, Garai, is there something. . .oh.' She rose to her feet and beckoned the man into the tent. For the first time, Acacia saw that he carried a young woman in his arms.  
  
'My apologies, Aleta, but your brother asked me to bring her to you. She's quite ill,' Garai said. Aleta motioned him to put the young woman on her own pallet, then knelt beside her. It was, most likely, the American girl whom Ardeth rescued. Garai continued, averting his eyes as Aleta loosened her clothing, 'Those dogs rolled her up inside a rug. I doubt if she was meant to see Hamunaptra.'  
  
Rolled her inside a rug? Acacia turned away from the unconscious woman, and Garai continued, 'She was shielded from the sun, but not from the heat, and there was no way she could breathe. Ardeth managed to get some water down her, but she's badly dehydrated and she was drugged on the barge. By the time we arrived in the encampment, she lost consciousness.' Acacia turned back to the American woman, seeing the redness of her face from the heat.  
  
'I shall need more water, to cool her down. Acacia, the cotton dress which Ardeth had made for me, on my sixteenth birthday. . .I shall need that, as well. We must get her out of these clothes. Garai, do you know who did this to her?' Aleta asked, her voice shaking with rage. Acacia, it was often joked, lived up to her name. The thorny one. But no one was foolish enough to think that Aleta was sweet and docile. Sweet, yes. . .but her own temper could match Ardeth's, and it often did when she saw cruelty.  
  
'Aywa, followers of Khaldun. And her younger brother. He betrayed her to them,' Garai answered as he headed out of the tent. The two sisters looked at each other, Aleta's face growing cold at the mention of the Egyptian prince who was hated by all Med-jai. Garai stopped at the entrance of the tent, and without turning around, added, 'Do whatever you must, Aleta. I will not watch her die a second time.' The two sisters once more shared a look before getting down to business. . .now what did *that* mean?  
  
. . .  
  
Aleta Bey was known among the Med-jai as a healer, of both the body and the spirit. She did not take emotional pain away, as such, but she was an excellent listener. And when it came to taking care of the sick and the wounded, she could be almost as fierce as her older brother was in battle. He was also her favorite brother, though she would have never admitted to it. While their mother and Acacia fretted over Ardeth's tendency to ignore his own well-being, Aleta simply accepted it and found ways around it.  
  
Scolding him had no effect, aside from annoying him. Aleta was quite sure, as she set to treating her current patient, that her brother was probably hurt worse than he was letting on. If that happened, he would be brought to her tent, and she would take care of him. For now, however, her concern was for the flushed, unconscious young woman now resting on her pallet.  
  
Aleta was only barely aware of her older sister enlisting the aid of her two children, Darius and Damara. Instead, she was efficiently stripping the young woman down to her bare essentials. Aleta was pleased that she was wearing cotton underpants, and no corset. Good. At least this woman had some sense. Aleta, like all Med-jai, was devastatingly practical, and she had no use for European sensibilities or fashion.  
  
Even as she worked, Aleta was running through what Garai told her. Drugged on the barge. She should be ready for the woman to vomit and retch, depending on whether or not she ate. Perhaps it would best for the children to leave. Aleta tended to treat all patients the way she treated her elder brother. . .or any other warrior. . .when they were ill or wounded. It was bad enough that they were in pain. They did not need others to witness their suffering.  
  
As her niece and nephew finally found the cotton dress which was made for her on her birthday, she told the pair, 'Listen to me, little ones. . .I need for you to find Garai, and find out this woman's name. It will help me when I take care of her. Can you do that for me?' The two little ones nodded, looking very proud to be assigned such an adult task. With a quick look at their mother for a confirming nod, the pair raced out of the tent.  
  
Aleta turned her attention back to her patient. It was hard to tell her age, but Aleta put her guess at between twenty-five and thirty. Her dark hair was made all the darker by its dampness. Aleta muttered under her breath about what she'd like to do to the monsters who showed such cruelty. She had no patience with such things, none in the world. To do such a thing went against everything the Med-jai stood for.  
  
'And people call us cruel. Ha! I think not! A true Med-jai warrior would never bake another to death, much less a woman who harmed no one else,' Aleta muttered angrily. The woman shuddered, and Aleta deliberately made her voice as gentle as her hands. She whispered, 'Shhh, do not be afraid. No one will harm you now. You have my word on that. Shhh, you are safe now.' She was rewarded as the woman slowly opened her eyes.  
  
Aleta smiled and carefully dribbled water over the woman's lips and down her throat. She whispered, 'Yes, very good. You are safe. My name is Aleta Bey, and you were brought here by my brothers.' The woman licked her lips, drawing the moisture into her mouth. Aleta continued, 'Do not be afraid. I removed your clothes, so I could put another dress on you. No men saw you. This dress is much cooler. Do you understand?'  
  
The woman nodded weakly, and Aleta nodded to her sister. Acacia put the discarded clothes in a semi-neat pile, as Aleta carefully pulled the woman into a sitting position to remove her blouse. To her credit, Aleta's patient tried to help, but was too weak. Acacia said softly, in a tone of voice that usually only her children heard, 'Be easy. . .let us do the work, and save your strength. Your daughter will have need of you.'  
  
Daughter? Aleta looked down at the woman, who mouthed a name. Aleta leaned forward, and heard, 'Miranda.' Miranda. . .was that not the name of one of Shakespeare's heroines, or at the very least, one of his characters?  
  
Acacia also heard. She nodded, explaining, 'Your daughter is here, and she is safe. She is very worried about you and Ardeth. She is a very interesting child. She keeps referring to Ardeth as being 'pretty.' I am not sure if the other warriors will ever allow him to forget it!' This time, Acacia's statement was rewarded with a smile. Aleta smiled as well, and Acacia added, 'My name is Acacia. I, too, am Ardeth Bey's younger sister. And you are Celia.'  
  
'Acacia. . .thorny one. Anatol. . .told us. Ardeth. . .too,' Celia Ferguson replied hoarsely. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. The sisters exchanged a glance, then Acacia put her hands on each of Celia's shoulders, supporting her upper body while Aleta slipped the dress over her head. Once the dress was straightened, Acacia eased Celia back down onto the pallet. Impulsively, Acacia took her hand.  
  
'Do you feel sick?' Aleta asked gently and there was the barest hint of a nod. Aleta didn't even have to ask. Her older sister immediately handed her a basin. The younger sister glanced outside and Acacia nodded, again understanding, then slipped from the tent. As Aleta placed the basin beside the pallet, she said softly, 'It is just you and I, Celia. There will no one watching. . .just me to support you, if it becomes necessary.'  
  
'Thank you. Is Ardeth all right? They hit him so hard when they took me, he shouldn't have come after me so soon,' Celia whispered. Hit him? //Oh, brother mine, what have you done to yourself this time?// However, Aleta didn't verbalize this. It was obvious to her that the American woman blamed herself for Ardeth's injury, probably for the kidnapping as well. Aleta shook her head. Not exactly the usual Westerner they saw out here.  
  
'Acacia has gone to check on him. . .but please, do not worry about my brother. He has a very hard head, something all five of the Bey children inherited from both our father and our mother,' Aleta replied. For the first time, too, she realized that Celia Ferguson referred to Aleta's brother by his first name. Very interesting! Her brother only allowed people to call him by his given name, if he trusted them.  
  
There was a weak laugh, then Celia answered in a low voice, 'I am familiar with that trait myself. I tried to warn him, I called out to him when the men attacked, but there was a fourth man in the bazaar, the one who hit him from behind. If only there was something else I could have done. . .' Her voice trailed off, and Aleta realized how close she was to tears. Aleta's soft heart couldn't bear that, and she gently caressed the dark hair.  
  
'This is not your fault, Celia. Please know that. My brother is our chieftain, he uses his own judgment. Please do not dishonor him by blaming yourself,' Aleta whispered. She knew of no other way to put it. Celia seemed to understand. She nodded, looking very tired, and Aleta continued, 'Rest now. You almost died, and I will not dishonor my brother's choices by preventing your recovery. Rest. I will not leave you.'  
  
'If. . .you. . .see. . .Ardeth. Tell him. . .thank you,' Celia rasped out. She was fighting off her exhaustion. Aleta could see the fight she was putting up, and almost laughed. No wonder Ardeth allowed this woman to call him by his first name! Celia fought the weakness of her body with all the same ferocity that Aleta saw in Ardeth and other warriors after they were wounded. But as they did, she succumbed to her body's demands for sleep and healing. Her eyes slowly closed, but Aleta did not leave her. She gave Celia her word, and until Acacia returned, she would not leave. She would make sure that Celia was not alone.  
  
Only moments after Celia finally fell asleep, Altair Bey entered the tent. She didn't say anything at first, and Aleta whispered, 'She finally went back to sleep. I think she wanted to stay awake, to make sure Ardeth was all right. Mother, she said something about Ardeth being struck when she was kidnapped. She tried to warn him, but he was hit from behind by an additional attacker. Do you know of what she speaks?'  
  
Her mother sighed and answered, 'I do. Ardeth collapsed just a few minutes ago. He was hit in the head with a club. He spent the rest of yesterday resting in bed. . .but it was not enough. Would you see to him, and I will stay with this girl?' Aleta looked at her mother with a measuring look. She knew that Altair Bey loved all of her children, but she was even more protective of Ardeth and Acacia than she was of Anatol and Aleta.  
  
Her concerns must have shown on her face, for Altair sighed and said, 'My daughter, please. . .I do not blame this girl for her brother's treachery. Tempting as it may be, I know it is foolish to blame her for something over which she had no control. Especially not after what the Carnahans told me about her abduction. As you have told me in the past, Ardeth makes his own decisions. Please make sure your brother will have no lasting damage?'  
  
'All right, Mother. Her name is Celia. And I will check on Ardeth. The last thing she said to me, before she fell asleep, was a request to thank Ardeth for her,' Aleta replied. She rose slowly to her feet, allowing her mother to take her place beside the pallet, and whispered, 'Rest easy, Celia. You are safe. . .my mother shall stay with you, and I will see to my headstrong brother.' With one last look at her mother and the sleeping American, she left the tent. 


	12. A Mother and Child Reunion no matter how...

Deana: Now, what have I told you about that? You just have to wait your turn for Ardeth! You know how long the line is to get Ardeth into your tent!  
  
Part Eleven  
  
Anatol Bey was *very* put out with his older brother for ruining his good mood. They just finished a highly successful raid. There were no Med- jai deaths, only minor injuries. They even captured one of the zombies, to borrow a phrase from O'Connell. While Celia was badly dehydrated, she was alive and currently in the care of Anatol's sister Aleta.  
  
And then Ardeth collapsed. No, not right away. He waited until he was inside his tent, receiving his reports from the Commanders. As usual, Anatol stood at his side. O'Connell was with his family, and Miranda was with the O'Connells. The last report was being given, when the Commander stopped in mid-sentence and asked, 'Ardeth? Are you all right?' Anatol, who was looking out the entrance of the tent, turned his attention back to his brother.  
  
For the first time, Anatol noticed the way his brother kept rubbing at his temples. . .the unusual pallor. . .and the lines of pain in Ardeth's face. With a concerted effort, Ardeth lifted his head to look at the Commander and replied very softly, 'I will be fine, Aarif, please continue.' Anatol exchanged a look with Aarif, who still looked concerned. But the older man concluded his report, and Ardeth continued, 'Very well. I need a contingent of men to go to Hamunaptra, and find out if our men were able to apprehend Jason Ferguson.'  
  
'Aywa, my chieftain,' Aarif answered, then said something in a language which Anatol did not recognize. The young man only knew Greek, ancient Egyptian, Arabic, and English. But there were tribes within the Med-jai that spoke other languages, for they were descended from Romans and other groups. Many a time, outcasts would come to the desert to die. . .only to find the Med-jai. They were absorbed into the Med-jai, expanding the size of each tribe.  
  
Ardeth, as the chieftain, knew all of the languages spoken by the twelve tribes of the Med-jai. He learned those languages as a boy, lessons which Anatol never received. Perhaps his father never believed that both Ardeth and Andreas would die without issue. He didn't know. Anatol did know, however, that after Aarif spoke, the Commanders left the tent. All except one, Alekos, of the Geban tribe. Before he could speak, however, Anatol's mother entered the tent.  
  
'Mother,' Ardeth greeted, pushing himself to his feet. Anatol never took his eyes from his brother's face. Nor did their mother. During the last seven years, ever since his mother told him to go to Hamunaptra, Anatol and Altair Bey were involved in a conspiracy of love. Half the time, they fought a losing battle, because Ardeth was all too aware of his duties as a chieftain. To use the terminology of the Westerners, Ardeth was the Med-jai king, though he had no riches, and he served even more than the others did.  
  
But sometimes, Altair and Anatol won a victory, as they did when they pushed Ardeth to take this holiday. //Abbreviated holiday,// Anatol acknowledged as Altair embraced her son, //but we shall see what we can do to correct that.// His mother pulled back and said quietly, 'You look exhausted, Ardeth. The business of the Med-jai can wait until you get some rest.' Already, Ardeth was shaking his head, grimacing as he did so.  
  
'I have been away for a week, Mother, there is much I need to do,' Ardeth replied. Anatol rolled his eyes behind his brother's back. If not for the consequences, Anatol would be sorely tempted to bash his brother upside the head a second time, just to make him rest. However, that would do no good, and indeed, it would end up making things worse. Ardeth added, 'Will you see to Celia, please? I am concerned for her.'  
  
That, Anatol could believe. There was much whispering among the Med- jai as they watched their chieftain riding back to the encampment after the raid with the American woman in his arms. It wasn't the first time they returned with survivors of a raid, rescuing whom they could when the Tuareg decided to attack a caravan. However, it also wasn't standard for the Med- jai chieftain to carry any of the survivors with him on his horse. It was rare indeed for anyone other than Ardeth to ride that horse.  
  
'I will see to this young woman, after I see to my son. Anatol, you have done well, taking care of him, but it is my turn now,' Altair answered. The young man wasn't so sure he wanted to leave, though he noticed Alekos leaving. The coming battle of wills between his mother and older brother looked to be quite entertaining. Ardeth was still in chieftain mode, and sometimes, not even their mother could make him snap out of it. On the other hand. . .  
  
'Mother, please, I know you are afraid for me, but I am all right. I was not the one who was drugged and rolled inside a carpet, then taken across the desert, nor was I the one who was almost baked to death. She is badly dehydrated, and very ill,' Ardeth answered with a sigh. Anatol quietly faded into the shadows of the tent, seeing a familiar expression in his mother's eyes. She wore the same one when they returned from Hamunaptra, Ardeth's strength finally failing him as they rode into the encampment. She had that exact same expression when Ardeth fell off a horse and practically at their mother's feet.  
  
'No, my son. . .you were the one who was struck from behind. Do not try to hide your pain from me, my Ardeth, I know you better than that. You are a great chieftain, a loyal friend, and a fine son. But you must let us take care of you once in a while. I lost your father, and that was hard enough, even knowing that it would happen some day. But losing Andreas almost killed me, and I will not go through that again!' their mother retorted.  
  
Another wave of pain crossed his brother's face, one that had nothing to do with being struck from behind. Altair saw it as well, for she cried out in anguish, 'NO! Oh, no, my son! I do not wish for you to feel guilty. . .about anything! You are not at fault for what was done to Andreas or Acacia! All I want is for you to be healthy and happy, and since being chieftain prevents you from being happy, then all that is left is to make sure you take care of yourself.'  
  
Unfortunately, however, it seemed that her disagreement with Ardeth made his headache worse. Anatol stepped out of the shadows, seeing the way he wavered, then lunged as Ardeth's legs gave way. Altair grabbed his waist and together, they eased him to the ground, their mother whispering, 'I am here, Mama is here, my love. Anatol, find Garai. . .we'll need his help to get Ardeth to his pallet. Shhh, just rest, my Ardeth. . .just rest.'  
  
Anatol, being the very bright young man he was, released his brother to find Garai. . .or O'Connell, since it seemed that the American was acting almost protective of his brother. A development Anatol found very strange, but he would not argue. He found neither, but Jonathan Carnahan was ambling about, looking rather lost. Anatol gasped, 'Ardeth. . .' That was all he had to say. . .Carnahan's bright eyes flashed first with concern, then with frustration. Anatol wasn't about to argue with him. . .he was quite disgusted with his brother!  
  
. . .  
  
Things happened very quickly, for the two observers In-Between. Anck watched in horror as the reincarnation of her forever friend was abducted in broad daylight. She watched as the Med-jai fought with grim determination to reach Celia in time, only to be knocked unconscious from behind. Anck was torn. . .the Med-jai failed to protect Celia, as she foresaw. But he was injured while trying to protect her.  
  
//It is not finished yet, Anck-su-namun,// Mathayus told her, //for even now, they make their plans to rescue Celia from her traitor brother. He has not yet failed her. . .things are playing out as they were meant.// Anck made no answer. But she watched in silence as the Med-jai made their plans and gathered their information. She listened as O'Connell struggled to set things right with the Med-jai leader. And she wept as Celia at last remembered that she was, indeed, Lady Ardath. . .friend, sister, mother, concubine.  
  
She saw, too, that Mathayus was right. Only a mortal day after the abduction in the bazaar, the Med-jai surrounded the kidnappers in the Sahara Desert and Celia was rescued. The Med-jai leader was true to his word. Anck both loved him and hated him for that. For rescuing Celia, and honoring his oath. She loved him for rescuing her friend and hated him for proving her wrong.  
  
Celia wasn't out of danger yet. . .she was very ill. Nor was Ardeth Bey fully recovered from the blow to his head. She watched with mixed emotions as he crumpled to the ground inside his tent. His mother and younger brother caught him. The marks were missing from the face of the mother, as she cradled her second born son in her arms. Anck almost laughed, hearing the way Altair Bey spoke to her son. One would have thought he was a boy of five, rather than a grown man.  
  
//He is still her son. . .still the child she struggled to bring into this world. Still the infant whom all believed would not live to see his first birthday. You see a man. She sees her child,// Mathayus said. He paused, then added, //Cassandra was the same way. There are times, when I watch Altair Bey, and I think that she is Cassandra reborn. Perhaps it is wishful thinking. . .that would make Ardeth Bey my son, in a manner of speaking.//  
  
//You truly care for him,// Anck observed curiously as young Anatol raced from the tent in search of aid. Mathayus did not speak, but it was not necessary. Anck continued, //Why? You will never tell me why, just as you never tell me why you are even involved in this situation.// Mathayus changed the scene with a wave of his hand, to show Jason Ferguson now confronting Khaldun. . .and losing.  
  
But Anck still saw the boy's soul, pushed deep inside. She felt chills running up and down her spine, understanding now what happened. Somehow, Jason Ferguson learned that since Ardath's blood bound Khaldun, it was only the blood of her forever friend which could free him. She was uncomfortable with magic. . .that was always Imhotep's province, though she knew some spells. Nor did she understand how Jason Ferguson would be able to free Khaldun.  
  
//Because, like his sister, he is of the same ancestry as your forever friend. It is not just the bloodline of Ardath, but the Pictish and Hibernian blood that runs through his veins which may free Khaldun. When your love bound him, he did not specify which blood. . .the bloodline or the blood of a tribe. Thus, Jason Ferguson may free him. . .because while I cannot see if he shares Ardath's blood line, I can see that he comes from the same tribes,// Mathayus answered.  
  
He paused, then continued, //And you ask me why. I have told you. I seek my own redemption. Ma'at has provided a second chance for me. So I seek now to be worthy of that second chance. As to your other question, why I care for that man in the tent. The question has already been provided to you, had you been listening. However, you were not. The answer is, Ardeth Bey is much like I used to be. . .strong and brave. Honorable. But Ardeth Bey is also stronger than I was, stronger than Rameses was, after your forever friend died. I allowed my grief and fury to destroy that which Cassandra loved in me. That man has lost many people who were important to him. . .but he will not falter.//  
  
Both fell silent as the five Med-jai dispatched to Hamunaptra were slaughtered by the evil now inhabiting Jason Ferguson's body. Khaldun sought to turn them against their chieftain, for sending them to their deaths. But none would turn, for they knew for many years that such a thing would come to pass. The Med-jai did not fear death, only the fear of disgracing their people and disappointing their families was real to them. Thus. . .Khaldun was awake, but he already lost an important battle.  
  
//They are loyal to him,// Anck whispered, as each Med-jai died, //loyal to him, in a way no Med-jai was ever loyal to Seti.// She looked at Mathayus, asking, //Why? Why such loyalty to a man who just collapsed in his own tent? To a man who is now cradled in his mother's arms, as if he was just a child? He is not as strong as Imhotep was.// Mathayus shook his head, looking disgusted, but Anck could not understand.  
  
//They are loyal, foolish little girl, because that 'weak' man takes the same risks they do. When Ardeth Bey and his Med-jai challenged the Anubis Warriors, it was that 'weak' man who led the charge. It was quite a magnificent sight, I am told. He would shed blood for those men, would give his very life. . .and they know it. He asks nothing of them that he himself would not do, and often takes the most dangerous tasks for himself. . .because he believes it is his duty as their leader,// he bit out.  
  
Again, Mathayus shook his head, adding, //You say that Ardeth Bey is not as strong as Imhotep. Again, I say. . .you are wrong. Imhotep was weak.// Anck rounded on him furiously, her long hair whipping about her face, but Mathayus looked less than impressed. He continued, //I speak the truth, foolish little girl. And you will see. . .see why he is so much stronger.// The glint in his eyes should have warned her. Without even realizing she was doing it, Anck turned back to see the mortal world reflected in the waters.  
  
Mathayus whispered, //You see. . .what makes Ardeth Bey strong is that loyalty you saw just a moment ago. Imhotep commands because he forces people against their will, just as Khaldun does. Ardeth Bey commands because he demonstrates respect and loyalty to his men. Ardeth Bey carries the same family name as the Med-jai captain who invoked the hom-dai, three thousand years ago. . .but they are not the same man.//  
  
There was a double-edged meaning there, Anck was sure. Nothing was ever simple with this man. He already told her that Ardeth Bey was not of Hamadi Bey's bloodline, and now he was telling her that they weren't the same man. . .did that, then, mean that Ardeth Bey wasn't his reincarnation, either? Mathayus was truly determined to take every reason Anck had to hate that man from her. Damn him. Damn them both.  
  
//And in doing so, you damn yourself. Possibly Ardath's reincarnation, and all of her bloodline at the same time,// Mathayus answered grimly. He kept saying things like that, kept referring back to Ardath's bloodline, Ardath. . .oh. Anck looked at her companion, feeling her jaw become unhinged. She realized for the first time that she never considered what happened to Rameses and Ardath's son. She knew he was given to the Med-jai after Ardath's murder, but she didn't know what happened. He was Med-jai, Mathayus told her earlier.  
  
//He was raised in the desert, Anck-su-namun, after the Med-jai were exiled from Thebes and the hom-dai cast,// Mathayus answered, //he grew up as a Med-jai. The first chieftain of the Med-jai, after the death of Shakir Bey.// Anck looked at her companion, sensing that he wasn't telling her everything. . .and that he wouldn't tell her everything, either. She was supposed to figure this out for herself.  
  
But. . .she didn't want to. Because there was something teasing the back of her mind, something about Shakir Bey and his adopted son. Something that frightened her badly. Because if that was true. . .NO! No, it could not be! She shook her head wildly, and instead, turned her attention back to the mortals. She waved her hand, changing the picture to Celia, who was now sleeping in Aleta Bey's tent. . .and tried to ignore the burning eyes behind her.  
  
. . .  
  
Mathayus was fuming. . .when would he get through to this stubborn girl? Every so often, he would see a flash of insight in her eyes. . .only to see that flicker quickly disappear. She was starting to see the truth. Mathayus could *feel* that. Just now, she almost saw, at the very least, that Ardeth Bey was the descendant of Lady Ardath and Rameses. But then it was gone, and Mathayus wondered if it would take a catastrophe before she finally accepted the truth.  
  
//Again, my child, that is not your responsibility. . .you are doing all that you can. Anck's desire to. . .as that quaint saying goes. . .bury her head in the sand is no more your responsibility than Jason Ferguson's bad choices are the responsibility of his sister. True, the boy sacrificed himself to save her, but in the end, she would have not needed saving, were it not for his bad choices,// Ma'at told him.  
  
Mathayus could hardly argue with that logic. He found it difficult to watch, Jason Ferguson's sacrifice. While they now watched Celia Ferguson as Aleta Bey cared for her, Mathayus found it difficult to get Jason's screams of anguish out of his mind as Khaldun was freed and took the boy's body as a host. He found it difficult to watch as Khaldun/Jason captured, tortured, and then slaughtered the five Med-jai who rode after him.  
  
Not because of the bloodshed. . .that was something to which Mathayus was accustomed. But even as Khaldun carried out one act of brutality after another, Jason Ferguson's soul remained within his body, trapped and unable to take action against the violator. Forced to watch as five men died. It wasn't just his own pain which tormented Jason. . .but the agony suffered by those five valiant men.  
  
And yet. . .Mathayus could not help wondering what would have happened if Celia Ferguson arrived at the City of the Dead. He shuddered as Ma'at gave him a mental image of her fate, had the Med-jai rescue failed. Mathayus thanked her for keeping that between the two of them. . .he had no idea if he could have stopped Anck-su-namun from doing something stupid, if that scenario came to pass.  
  
For now, there were other troubles. Though Anck was now watching over Celia, Mathayus had to check on other things. Using what was once the Bracelet of Anubis, now returned to his wrist, Mathayus closed his eyes and concentrated first on a man whose only crime was his resemblance to Imhotep, a crime for which he died. Even now, the remaining men loyal to him and to Lock-nah were transporting him from Holland to Egypt.  
  
Their plan was easy to see. They would bring him to Egypt, to Hamunaptra, and call him forth. Call his soul back from the Underworld, and everything would start again. . .only this time, it would be much worse, for these men allied themselves with a terrible, growing evil of the modern world. They did not yet know that this foolishness would cost them their lives. Mathayus could not yet see what would kill them. . .the Med- jai, Imhotep, or Hitler himself.  
  
For Mathayus knew, as Imhotep now understood, that beings such as themselves could not be controlled or used. There was a part of him that almost wished to see a confrontation between Imhotep and Adolf Hitler. But they could not chance such a meeting. That was entirely too dangerous. And for Mathayus, whose own redemption was tied up in this current situation, any amusement was outweighed by the risks.  
  
And so, those of Lock-nah's men who had survived Ahm Shere for whatever reason. . . perhaps because they were instructed to remain behind and cause as much trouble for the Med-jai in Cairo as possible. . .continued their journey from Holland. How had they known to find that man? Mathayus could see none of the answers, and acknowledged that perhaps it was simply good luck on the part of the men in crimson robes.  
  
He was finding it harder and harder, this new position as an observer. He was not used to simply observing. He was more accustomed to doing. But he was powerless right now, powerless and stuck with a companion who was as blind as the day was long. Mathayus ached to fight once more, to fight along such men as Ardeth Bey and even Rick O'Connell. Men of honor, whether they thought in such terms or not.  
  
But such were the consequences of his choices. He made his choice, when he appealed to Anubis, but that was just one choice too many. And now he was paying for that final, terrible choice by being unable to help those who needed his aid. Ma'at said gently, //Your time will come, my child. I know how much it hurts. . .being unable to help those who are becoming important to you.//  
  
Mathayus could only nod. Rather than watch that horrible picture, of the journey from Europe to Egypt, the Scorpion King turned the bracelet off and turned his attention to Anck once more. She was bloody annoying, but she was still his companion.  
  
She was still watching Celia, and Mathayus had the uncomfortable feeling of being a voyeur. He never really thought much about his companion's reaction to Lady Ardath's reincarnation. But now, he realized just how much both Meela and Anck missed her. Mathayus was quite sure that if it was possible, Anck would have reached out to touch the sleeping woman's face. And more than once, she tried, only to pull her hand back at the last minute. Did she fear the consequences to herself or to Celia?  
  
Mathayus didn't know. He did know that his own opinion of Anck-su- namun was slowly changing. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. That wasn't for him to decide, but he found himself hoping that Anck would get a second chance. It seemed likely that Imhotep would receive another chance at life, and Mathayus, of all people, knew that for some, it was never too late to do the right thing.  
  
//Will she be all right, Mathayus?// his companion asked softly and Mathayus looked first at Anck, then at Celia. Quite apart from what he saw, Mathayus had no doubt that Celia would survive this assault. She had too much to live for, and she was too bloody stubborn to ever give up. There was also the matter of her concern for Ardeth Bey. If Mathayus was any judge of character, and he thought he was a decent judge of character, he was rather certain that Celia would fight back, just to make sure Ardeth was all right.  
  
He smiled almost sadly. Theirs was a very different story from his and Cassandra's. But Mathayus, though he was a warrior and assassin, could tell when two people were starting to fall in love with each other. They were both afraid. . .Ardeth feared that what he could give to Celia wasn't enough; while Celia feared she wasn't strong enough to be the kind of woman Ardeth needed. It wasn't trust in each other which they lacked. . .it was trust in themselves.  
  
//She will be all right, Anck-su-namun. She will be all right, because she does not give up. Because she has two very important reasons to recover. . .her daughter, and Ardeth Bey,// Mathayus finally answered. Anck frowned, and Mathayus explained, //She fears for him, because of the attack yesterday. She will recover, if only to make sure that her daughter is not left alone, and to make sure that he is safe.//  
  
Anck still did not understand, and he told her, //Celia is wise enough to realize Ardeth Bey blames himself for her capture. She must recover, to ensure that his guilt does not increase. Further, she fears for possible complications from the attack. That was a terrible knock to his head.// He had a hard head, but that was beside the point. The point was, Celia would fight, she had many reasons *to* fight.  
  
And his explanation served to drive a point home to Anck, something he tried to make her see ever since the beginning. Several times, since she joined him, Mathayus wondered if she would ever understand what he was trying to tell her. She said slowly, reluctantly, //So. . .they truly are linked, then. I did not wish to believe it, but it seems like their recoveries truly are tied to each other.// Mathayus *barely* managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Anck continued, //And he will recover, because he feels responsible for her.// Finally! She was starting to figure out the most obvious truths!  
  
//Truly,// Mathayus said, congratulating himself on keeping his patience with her, //so, if you wish for your forever friend to recover, then you should pray and make offerings for the well-being of the Med-jai as well, to whichever god or goddess who loves you.// If she was wise, that goddess would be Ma'at, but Mathayus had serious doubts about this girl's wisdom. Not that he had much room to talk.  
  
However, he was learning, and he was finding ways to atone. He could not directly intervene in mortal affairs. . .at least, he could not yet intervene. Anck stamped her foot, muttering under her breath about the gods and the Med-jai. Mathayus hid a grin. It wouldn't do at all to gloat right now, not when Anck was finally starting to realize that if she wanted Celia Ferguson and her daughter to live through Khaldun's reign of terror, then Ardeth Bey would be needed to protect and defend them. Still. . .he was vastly amused.  
  
. . .  
  
Altair Bey was *not* amused by the turn of events over the last day. At the moment, her youngest daughter was in Ardeth's tent, seeing to his head injury, and Altair was here, in Aleta's tent. True enough, Altair had told her daughter that she would remain with the American woman, the mother of that darling little girl. But she still wished she was with her son, instead. This American woman, after all, was nothing to her.  
  
That was bad enough. What was worse was the way Aleta looked at her. As if she didn't trust Altair with the American woman. That hurt. Altair was the first to admit that she could be overprotective of her children. And fortunately for her, Aleta and Anatol did not resent Ardeth and Acacia for her overprotectiveness with them. Somehow, they understood that she reacted as she did because she came so close to losing them. . .several times, in Ardeth's case.  
  
He wasn't supposed to have seen his first birthday. His birth was a difficult one, and took its toll on both mother and child. But oh, how he fought for his life! Among the Med-jai, a name once given to Hebrew girls came to mean strong and courageous, a name for a fighter, because of the woman who once held it. Lady Ardath. Altair was touched by the story of the young girl from faraway, a young girl who reminded Altair of herself.  
  
She read all the stories associated with her son's namesake, and knew that her second son would be a worthy namesake to the young concubine. As he grew, Ardeth proved her right. Not only was he a fierce little warrior as a child, but he had a gentleness that his older brother lacked. She loved Andreas, she loved all of her children, but she hadn't needed Garai's dream to tell her that if Andreas led the Med-jai during Hamunaptra, it would have been disastrous for her adopted people.  
  
Even so, she listened in silence as Garai related his dream as the Elders attempted to shift blame for the events at Hamunaptra. He, Aric, and Alekos all spoke for Ardeth while his body struggled to heal from the battle with the mummies inside Hamunaptra. The Elders tried to blame Ardeth, blame his soft heart. But Garai's dream told the truth, and it broke Altair's own heart. Too, it broke her heart that she would feel this gratitude that her second son saved their people, while her first son would have destroyed them in a bid for revenge.  
  
It provided no comfort to her, knowing that Andreas would have attempted to take revenge for the death of his younger brother. Knowing, as she did and as Garai did, that Ardeth would have died because of his elder brother's foolishness. That didn't ease the sorrow she felt when she remembered the mental picture of Andreas weeping over his younger brother's body, crying out his desire for revenge.  
  
It was that same foolhardiness which led to the exile of her husband's people, three thousand years earlier. Somehow, the foolhardiness of his distant and indirect ancestor, Hamadi Bey, manifested itself in her first son, while the wisdom and practicality of Hamadi's younger brother and successor, Shakir, made itself known in her second. The son she named for a foreign concubine. Her sweet Ardeth, who now lay unconscious in his tent.  
  
While this American woman lay in Aleta's tent. For a moment, hatred of the girl swept over Altair. Who was she, to place the life of Altair's son in danger? How dare she? Wasn't it bad enough that O'Connell risked Ardeth's life on a regular basis, then blamed her son for the stupidity of his wife and child? When would her children know peace? When would Ardeth know happiness, instead of duty and death and grief?  
  
And then, the girl moaned. She shifted her head from side to side on the pillow, and Altair found herself drawing toward the girl in spite of herself. The fury Altair was stoking in her soul, the hatred of this girl, died a quick death as the girl moaned, 'Ardeth. . .no. No, watch out!' There was a soft whimper of pain and fear, and the small shoulders shook from suppressed sobs. It was a good sign, in a way, for tears leaked from the corners of Celia's eyes. But those tears forced Altair's rage to give way to compassion.  
  
Who was *she* to hate this girl, who cried out a warning to Altair's son in her sleep, who was so frightened for Ardeth's well being? Altair's anger was washed away by guilt. She had no right to hate Celia Ferguson. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But to do so would be to dishonor everything that her husband and her sons believed in. It would be to dishonor the memories of Suleiman and Andreas, and it would dishonor every action Ardeth took to save his people over the last sixteen years.  
  
She touched the face of the young woman, murmuring in English, 'Shhh, little one. . .you are safe, as is Ardeth.' Her eyes opened slowly, revealing a hint of hazel. It was only a hint at first, then more was visible. Celia Ferguson blinked, focusing on Altair. Her lips formed a word, but Altair's first priority was to get more water down the girl. Celia accepted the lukewarm water gratefully, and Altair repeated, 'My son is safe. . .as are you. You must rest, child, your body has been through a terrible ordeal.'  
  
'Thank. . .you. My daughter. . .is all right? Miranda?' Celia whispered and Altair nodded, gently lowering her head back against the pillow. Celia swallowed, then whispered, 'I am so tired. Sleeping too much.' Altair almost laughed. The girl was very impatient, her will was already starting to exert itself, though her body was still recovering. Still, she smiled very gently and placed her hand on the girl's shoulder.  
  
'Your body has been through much. . .it requires much rest. I am Altair Bey, mother of Ardeth and Anatol. I have met your daughter, your Miranda. She is much like my own granddaughter,' Altair told the young woman. She was gifted with a tiny smile. Altair continued, 'And you have met my daughters, Acacia and Aleta. I have very beautiful children, yes? Your daughter certainly thinks so.'  
  
This time, the smile was a little brighter as Celia answered hoarsely, 'My daughter. . .is much wiser than I. To appreciate Ardeth. . .at such a young age.' Altair threw back her head and laughed, grimacing at the look of pain which crossed the young woman's face. However, Celia continued, 'Ardeth. . .is all right? They. . .hit him. . .so hard. I was. . .drugged. . .most of the time. But. . .that kept. . .playing in my head.'  
  
'He will be fine. His head hurts and he's. . .asleep in his tent. But he will be fine. More water, you are still dehydrated,' Altair said firmly. Celia nodded sleepily, her body already starting to shut down once more. She accepted a little more water, murmuring something under her breath. Altair swallowed hard when she realized what the girl was saying. Something about Ardeth risking his life to come after her. This girl, at least, appreciated what her son gave.  
  
She repeated, 'He will be fine. . .my son has been hurt worse. And fortunately, he has a hard head.' That provoked a sleepy smile, then Celia's eyes slid closed. Her head lolled to one side and her breathing evened out as she drifted off to sleep. Altair rocked back on her heels. She was used to young woman falling all over her son. . .in the first place, her own maternal bias aside, Ardeth was a *very* handsome young man. He was also a young man with a great deal of authority within the twelve tribes.  
  
It was unfair to say, as her daughters did, that all the young women who made a bid to become the chieftain's wife were interested only in Ardeth's prestige and authority. It wasn't entirely true. But many of them spent more time talking about the things they could do as Ardeth's wife than how they could make him happy. Mother of a chieftain, wife of a chieftain, Altair knew about the demands of the job. And she knew none of those women could handle being second on the priority list.  
  
The women who could have handled being second, were already spoken for, or in love with other men. They were either themselves daughters of commanders or women who saw the truths of the chieftain's life. Either way. . .they were not available to her son, or did not love him in that way. Altair confided to Garai only a few years earlier that she feared Ardeth's happiness would lie outside the Med-jai, in either a woman of another nation. . .or an outsider from the West. But even that would not be a guarantee, because people were people, and Altair feared that even an outsider would care more for her son's power than for his heart.  
  
She was an outsider. . .a Greek woman, who traveling with her family through Egypt. But the life of an outsider was not an easy one within the Med-jai. Too many expected the Med-jai to change to suit them. Had no respect or interest in the traditions of the Med-jai, and the reason for those traditions. She found it easier, that seventeen year old Altair, because she just lost her entire family. . .and in the Med-jai, she found a new family.  
  
She did not know if this girl now in her daughter's tent was capable of making her son happy, or if she would be another like O'Connell. Demanding that Ardeth jump through hoops, as the saying went, to prove his loyalty. His love. Altair's eyes narrowed. As a mother, she understood O'Connell and his desire to rescue his son, at all costs. But as a mother, that did not mean she had to like a man who risked the life of her child so easily, even as he scoffed at their beliefs. When her daughter returned, she would speak with O'Connell. It was time certain things were settled. . .long past time.  
  
. . .  
  
Six hours passed since the Med-jai involved in the raid returned to the encampment, and Evy heard nothing about Celia's condition. Jonathan finally went for word about thirty minutes earlier, leaving Miranda with Evy, Alex, and Rick. The little girl was very quiet, very worried about her mother, and about Ardeth, despite Rick's repeated claims that he was fine. Miranda didn't seem too terribly convinced, and Evy wondered if she should remind her husband that children were smarter than they were given credit.  
  
She was on the point of doing so when Jonathan returned to the tent, looking very exasperated. He said, 'Ardeth collapsed in his tent, the stupid fool. . .after all the commanders left. Anatol needed help to get him situated. They decided to make a bed for him on the ground. He prefers to sleep like that, he's more comfortable. Celia is recovering, and Aleta thinks she'll be fine.'  
  
Rick muttered a few uncomplimentary phrases about their Med-jai friend under his breath, and Miranda flew at him, screaming angrily, 'Don't you say that 'bout him! Ardeth saved my mommy!' Evy's *very* surprised husband barely managed to grab Miranda's small fists. . .not that she could have done much damage. . .and wrapped her in a bear hug. That didn't keep Miranda from struggling and screaming, 'You take that back!'  
  
'Rick, give her to me,' Evy commanded, reaching for the little girl. Rick carefully handed the child over, and Evy managed to dodge Miranda's flailing arms. As soon as Miranda was safely in Evy's arms, she collapsed, sobbing. The little girl, it seemed, had enough, and Evy cursed herself for not thinking about how difficult this was for Miranda.  
  
She whispered, rocking the little girl back and forth, 'Shhh. . .it's all right, little one. Rick didn't mean it like that. . .he just says it because he's worried about Ardeth. Just like all of us. We know that Ardeth saved your mum. Shh, it's okay, sweeting. When your mum's a little stronger, we'll take you to see her, all right? But right now, she needs to rest, and so does Ardeth. He did get hurt when your mum was kidnapped, and he needs to recover.'  
  
Rick put his hand tentatively on Miranda's small back, saying softly, 'Aunt Evy's right, baby girl. I didn't mean to upset you. . .Ardeth's important to all of us. It's just that sometimes I get mad at him, and I don't think.' Miranda's face remained buried against Evy's shoulder, and Rick tried again, 'I know you're scared for Mommy and Ardeth, but they'll be just fine. They need to recover, but they'll be fine. And now, we'll have time for them to recover.'  
  
'Oh. I see. The infamous O'Connell double standard strikes again. It is all right for my son to put his well-being second when it comes to your son. . .but not when it comes to that child's mother. Do I have the right of it, Mr. O'Connell?' a quiet voice asked from the doorway in French. Rick stiffened, then both he and Evy looked at the newcomer. Altair Bey. Obviously, not wanting to upset the little girl now in Evy's arms, she chose to address him in a language which he knew. . .and Miranda didn't.  
  
Rick slowly rose to his feet, answering her in the same language, 'My son is a little boy. Celia is a grown woman.' Miranda shifted uneasily in Evy's arms, her dark eyes moving from Rick to Ardeth's mother, then back again. Evy drew Miranda closer, silently pleading with the two opponents to take it outside, before they upset the children. Alex could understand French, but Miranda could understand body language.  
  
'Celia Ferguson is the mother of a four year old child, who still needs her. Be honest, Mr. O'Connell. You are only interested in having my son around when it suits your needs. You care nothing about him, or about my people. You are not his friend. . .you do not know how to be a friend. Perhaps this is not your fault. But it is time you understood something. I will protect all four of my children with my dying breath. And that includes the chieftain of our tribes. Ardeth is a grown man, but he is still my son,' Altair answered.  
  
'That's not true! We care about Ardeth!' Alex blurted out in English. Altair's head snapped around to look at Evy's son. Alex quailed a little, but continued, 'We care about Ardeth, too! He saved my mum, and he saved me, and you can't say we don't love him, too!' There wasn't a 'so there' spoken at the end of Alex's outburst, but it was there, nonetheless. Evy heard it. As did Altair Bey.  
  
Once more in French, the woman said, 'I have no doubt, little Alexander, that you do care for my son. As does your mother, and your uncle. I have seen for myself that you care for my Ardeth. But your father is quite incapable of caring about anyone other than you and your mother. Ask him, little one. Ask him if he would bother aiding my son, if there was no threat to you and your mother. As for his oft-repeated assertion that there is always trouble afoot when my son is around. . .he has never stopped to consider that the reason my son is around when trouble is afoot because he is seeking to save your father's stubborn Yankee ass!'  
  
Evy blinked at Altair's coarse language, but couldn't argue with her points. That was the case in London. Ardeth did not lead those men to their house. . .he followed them, and tried to protect her and Alex. Through the last several days, Evy grew more and more aware that while they earned Ardeth's respect, there were many among his warriors who didn't share that respect for Rick in particular.  
  
Rick. . .Rick was staring at the Med-jai matriarch in shock. In all the years Evy was with her husband, rare was the time when he was at a loss for words. This was one of those times. Altair Bey smiled grimly and asked mockingly, 'Not used to people calling you on your behavior, are you, Mr. O'Connell? Not accustomed to being held accountable for what you do and say? With friends like you, my son needs no enemies!'  
  
She slowly and deliberately turned her attention away from Rick. She was turning toward Miranda, and Evy was shocked to see the woman's face completely change. Gone was the avenging-angel mother, seeking to protect her child, and in her place was a loving grandmother. Altair Bey said in English with a gentle smile, 'I apologize if I frightened you, little one. Would you like to see your mama now?'  
  
'Can I?' Miranda breathed, and Altair nodded with a sweet smile. Evy released the little girl, who ran to Altair. The matriarch swung her into her arms, her smile brightening further. Miranda said, 'And after I see Mommy, can I see Ardeth? I been really, really scared about him!' Evy noticed the lapse in grammar, even if no one else did. Early in Celia and Miranda's visit, Evy noticed the lack of baby talk from the four year old.  
  
Celia hadn't known what she meant, until Evy explained herself. . .and then Celia explained she was never raised with baby talk. She was taught to speak properly from a very early age, by her parents as well as her grandparents. The only times when Celia, and now her daughter, ever lapsed into grammar that sounded like pidgin English, was when she was too worried to think about the proper conjugation.  
  
'Of course you may, little one. . .and then you shall go back and tell your mama. I think she is very worried for my son as well. Each time she awakens, she asks about him. Perhaps when she is stronger, we will take her to see him, what do you think?' Altair asked. Miranda needed very little time to consider this. She bobbed her head wildly, and Altair gave her a little hug as they departed from the tent.  
  
There was silence in the wake of their departure. Rick was still staring at where Altair stood only a few minutes earlier. Evy rose to her feet and went to her husband, saying softly, 'Sit down, honey. She was reacting as any parent would to a perceived threat to her child. How many times, while we were tracking Imhotep, did Ardeth almost lose his life? Try to look at it from her point of view.'  
  
'I. . .am. I. . .think about how I would feel. If someone. . .if Alex. . .why does he do this, then? Why does he just accept. . .?' Rick asked, unable to finish his sentence. Over the last week, he slowly begun to realize that they could be better friends to Ardeth.  
  
But until now, he wasn't blatantly confronted with it, and Rick didn't know how to react. Evy rubbed his shoulder, answering softly, 'Because, m'love, he knows the truth. He knows why you lash out at him, and knows that despite the hurt it does cause him. . .it isn't really personal. And Ardeth, for all his skills as a warrior, has a gentle heart. That's why he accepts it from us. Because out of all the people he knows, we're among the few who accept him simply as a man.'  
  
'No,' Rick corrected dully, 'I expect more from him. When I lost you, at Ahm Shere, I looked around for Ardeth. So he could make it right, so he could bring you back to me, back to us. I always expect him to be there for me, sometimes at the cost of his own people. For us, and when he is there, without me asking, I lash out at him. Hell, half the time I don't even consider him human!'  
  
Evy knew that wasn't true. She saw the concern in Rick's eyes when he asked Ardeth if he was all right in London, on the double-decker bus, after the pair rescued her. She *knew* Rick cared for Ardeth, and she was willing to bet that Altair knew that as well. But Evy also saw things through Altair's eyes. To the matriarch, it probably did seem like the O'Connell family used her son, then discarded him when they didn't need him any longer.  
  
Unfortunately, this would not be the final confrontation between the Med-jai and her husband, because Rick would struggle for a time between his first instinct. . .protecting her and Alex. . .and his understanding that they couldn't run from whom they were, or the consequences of what they did. Perhaps that struggle would take a long time. The only thing Evy knew for certain was that she could not fail her brothers, or her husband. They all needed her, and she would not let them down again.  
  
. . .  
  
Chills invaded her sleep, drawing her back to consciousness against her will at first. At least, it was against her will until she heard the voices. And a name. If she concentrated. . .was that a child's voice? Yes. Whose child? She vaguely remembered hearing two children in the tent when she was first brought here, cradled against the chest of one of the Med-jai from Rick and Evy's house. Garai.  
  
'Altair, I think Mommy's trying to wake up!' an excited little voice said, and that provided the impetus Celia needed to open her eyes. Miranda. Miranda was here. After a few tries, she finally managed to force her eyelids apart. She didn't see her daughter at first. . .the dehydration and the drugs used to sedate her took their toll, and she found it difficult to focus her eyes once more. And then she saw her daughter's face.  
  
'Miranda,' she breathed. Celia attempted to raise her hand from the pallet where she slept, and was pleased to find that she could do that. Miranda immediately captured her hand and drew it to her small cheek. Celia whispered, 'Oh, baby. . .I'm so sorry.' Miranda crawled up onto the pallet beside her, and the young woman wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her as tightly as her limited strength would allow.  
  
'It wasn't your fault, Mommy. . .Uncle Jason was bad. He hurt you, and he hurt Ardeth. I hate him, Mommy! I know I'm not supposed to, but I hate him!' Miranda replied, burying her face against Celia's shoulder. The mother did and said nothing to reprimand the child. Miranda was only four years old. . .and right now, Celia wasn't particularly fond of her younger brother, either. Yes, he freed her. . .but if not for him, she would have never been in that position.  
  
'It's okay, sweetheart. . .but you're fine, I'm gonna be fine, and so will Ardeth. I bet you've been a very good girl, haven't you?' Celia asked softly. Miranda shook her head against her shoulder, and Celia asked, 'You haven't? What do you mean?' The little girl raised her head from her shoulder, tears starting to streak her face, and Celia tried to wipe away the moisture. Unfortunately, her hands would only cooperate so much.  
  
'I yelled at Mr. O'Connell. I was mad at him, for saying bad things about Ardeth,' Miranda replied. Celia raised her eyebrows at the woman who sat beside the pallet. Celia vaguely remembered her. . .wasn't she here earlier? The woman just smiled at her quietly, and a hazy memory rose up. She wasn't either of the women who took care of her initially, who changed her clothes for her. . .and Celia was still too weak to even think about feeling embarrassed about *that.*  
  
She was older. . .yes. Ardeth's mother. The woman said, 'Your daughter was quite put out with Mr. O'Connell, for inferring that my son should not have pursued your kidnappers, in light of his own injury.' It took Celia a moment to find her way around that minefield of words, then she understood. Altair. . .Celia now remembered her name. . .shrugged and added, 'My son makes his own decisions. I may not like those decisions, but I will stand by them.' She grinned almost impishly, saying, 'As you will find out, as your daughter gets older.'  
  
'Is that why you're mad at Mr. O'Connell, too? 'Cause he said bad things about Ardeth?' Miranda asked, raising her head to look at the Med- jai woman. Celia blinked, trying desperately to catch up with this conversation. Maybe the dehydration mixed up her brain, or maybe the heat baked it, because she was having one helluva time, trying to figure out what her daughter was talking about.  
  
Or. . .maybe not. A quick glance at their. . .companion. . .told Celia that Altair Bey knew exactly what Miranda meant. The older woman replied, 'No, little one. . .I was angry with him for other reasons. Or perhaps I should say. . .more reasons than that one.' Celia decided she wouldn't even try to figure that out. She became aware of strange. . .tensions between the Med-jai and Rick O'Connell in the time she spent in the O'Connell house, and then there was the conversation they had in the bazaar just before her kidnapping. It almost sounded like O'Connell was. . .warning her.  
  
'I was merely warning him, little one, that he should not take my son's friendship for granted,' the other woman said unexpectedly. The phraseology was so close to what Celia had been thinking, the American woman again had to blink in surprise. Altair Bey said, 'There are times, Miranda, when Mr. O'Connell thinks that his wishes are more important than my son's duties, as the chieftain of the Med-jai. I was reminding him that the world does not revolve around him.' Okay, this conversation was getting a little uncomfortable!  
  
Celia found herself in the uncomfortable position of being betwixt and between. After all, Rick O'Connell helped Ardeth to rescue her. And he told her, in the beginning, that while she was under his roof, she was part of his family. Then there was Ardeth. Altair Bey smiled apologetically, saying, 'My apologies. . .there are times when I am overprotective of my son. Much to his embarrassment.'  
  
Celia smiled and kissed the side of her daughter's head. She opted not to say anything about her own reactions to Ardeth. Not to Ardeth's mother, at least. Because then the woman would get the wrong idea about her. . .and that was something she just didn't need right now. Right now, she needed to hold her daughter and remember how lucky she was to be alive. She didn't have the strength to do anything else.  
  
Except wonder what changed her younger brother's mind. Why did Jason decide to cut her loose, when the Med-jai arrived, and allow them to rescue her? She dimly remembered hearing a conversation between Ardeth and Rick on the way to the camp. . .something about the five riders sent to Hamunaptra after Jason. But Celia really wasn't paying much attention at the time, as she was exhausted and content to just curl up against Ardeth's strong body.  
  
Even though he wasn't as strong as she first thought. She didn't know at the time that he was struggling against a terrible headache. She only knew that his arms around her were strong and protective, and during that ride, Celia felt like nothing in the world could possibly hurt her. She felt safe. . .protected. . .sheltered. 'Loved' was going a bit further than Celia was ready to go, but for a woman who had only one person looking out for her for most of her life. . . namely Celia's grandmother. . . feeling safe was saying a lot.  
  
And he made her daughter feel safe. That said even more. She did a terrible job of protecting her little girl, when it came right down to it. Things should have never gotten this far with Jason. Celia tightened her grasp on her child, feeling Miranda's arms tighten around her in response, and Altair asked softly, 'Something troubles you, child?' The American woman looked up, both at the question and at being called 'child.' On the other hand, this woman had at least two children older than Celia, so. . .  
  
'I was just thinking. . .I haven't done a very good job of taking care of Miranda. Of protecting her. . .making her feel safe. Ardeth makes her feel safe. . .and her own uncle frightens her. This situation with my brother. . .it should have never come to this. My daughter is afraid of my brother. . .' Celia began, shaking her head helplessly. She wasn't even sure why she was telling this woman any of this. Miranda's head popped up from her shoulder, and she shook her head almost desperately.  
  
But it was Altair who replied, 'My dear girl. . .you had no way of knowing that your brother would betray you! Let me tell you something. Seven years ago, events nearly took a catastrophic turn for my people, and there were many who blamed my son. Some said that if my oldest son, Andreas, was still alive, it would have never happened. In a manner of speaking, they were right. Things would have been much, much worse.'  
  
Celia wondered if this had anything to do with what Evy told her, about a victim of the hom-dai rising. She didn't ask, however, and the woman continued, 'In a dream, one of the Med-jai warriors learned the truth. If my elder son lived, then my entire people would have been wiped out. . .every man, woman, and child. And a terrible evil would have risen over this earth. And I wondered what I did wrong, for my first born son to do such a terrible thing, that would lead to the destruction of our people?'  
  
Celia was at a total and complete loss. She didn't know exactly what happened seven years earlier, or what would have happened, if Andreas Bey hadn't died. Nor did she know what to say. She didn't know if there was anything she could say, in such a situation. Altair shook her head and said softly, 'People make choices, dear child. A mother and father can raise their child to the best of their abilities. . .and that child will still make bad choices. You are not to blame for what your brother did wrong. No harm came to your child because of any decision you made. You did not fail to protect her.'  
  
'But I don't make her feel safe,' Celia countered. Altair merely shook her head, smiling ever so slightly. She was looking more at Miranda than she was at Celia, and the young woman turned her attention to her daughter. Miranda was still vehemently shaking her head, and Celia whispered, 'C'mon, baby. . .I know your uncle Jason scares you! And if I were a better mother, then you wouldn't be afraid of him.'  
  
'Uh-uh! You're a good mommy! Uncle Jason is the one who is bad! Altair, tell her! Tell Mommy that she's good!' Miranda retorted, before burying her face against Celia's shoulder once more. Celia just blinked, her head starting to hurt from all her exertion during the last few minutes. It was silly, of course, since she hadn't been doing anything besides talking since she woke up, but she supposed her body was still healing.  
  
'You already have, little one. . .Miss Ferguson. Your daughter *does* feel safe with you, just as she feels safe with my son. You can only protect Miranda so much, there is only so much which you can do. And you have done that. Your first words when you woke up were for her, to make sure she was all right. And now, you must rest. I know you still aren't feeling well. Miranda, stay with your mama. I think she would feel better if you were here,' Altair replied. Celia didn't have the strength to argue. She allowed her head to drop and closed her eyes. She only intended to doze, but in a matter of breaths, she was asleep once more. 


	13. Two Hearts Take Another Step Forward

Part Twelve  
  
Miranda Ferguson was a very upset little girl. She lay within the protective circle of her mommy's arms, cuddled up as close as she could get without crawling back inside her mommy. She couldn't do that, of course. . .especially since she didn't even know how she got out in the first place. But Miranda couldn't understand the conversation she just heard. Why did Mommy think she did a bad job? Mommy did so make her feel safe! Mommy and Ardeth both made her feel safe, it was Uncle Jason who scared her! That wasn't Mommy's fault!  
  
Finally, she decided to ask the other adult present. . .Altair. Miranda turned her head toward Ardeth's mommy and asked, 'Altair? How come Mommy thinks she don't do a good job of taking care of me?' Altair simply regarded her sadly for several moments. . .Miranda could see the sadness in her eyes. Then she reached out and touched Miranda's face gently. Kinda the way Miranda liked to touch Ardeth's face, when she was tracing his tattoos.  
  
'Because, little one. . .your mama has spent her entire life taking care of first your Uncle Jason, and then you. That is right, is it not?' Altair asked. When Miranda nodded, Altair continued, 'I thought as much. The Med-jai who also stayed at the O'Connell house with you and your mama told me this. Your mama thinks that she must protect you from everything bad in the world. She cannot do this. Not even if you also had a papa, could she do this.'  
  
Altair paused, then added, 'No one can do this. I cannot protect Ardeth from everything bad in the world, and he cannot protect us from all the people who would do us harm. That simply is not possible. And because your uncle Jason blames her for his problems, for the bad choices which he has made. . .your mama thinks. . .'  
  
It made no sense to the little girl, and she wasn't shy about saying so. Altair smiled again, and said, 'I know, little one. Your mama has worked very hard to take care of you, and I think it upset her, when she was kidnapped. She knew that you saw what happened, and she knew how frightened you must have been. She thinks, because she did not realize that your uncle would betray her, that she has been a bad mother to you.'  
  
Miranda shook her head, lying back down against Mommy. Adults were confusing. Altair smiled and reached out to touch Miranda's hair, saying softly, 'I know all of this confuses you, little one. It confuses us. But worry not. We will take care of you, and of your mother.' Miranda sighed, closing her eyes, and Altair continued, 'When my son. . .and your mama. . .are feeling stronger, we will take you to see him.'  
  
Miranda liked that idea. She was worried about Ardeth. She said so, and Altair answered softly, 'I worry for him as well. Not just because he was hurt, although that is a part of it. My son is very lonely. . .he needs someone to take care of him, without him even realizing it. He is very proud. . .he believes it is his responsibility to take care of everyone. But he does not know how to allow others to take care of him. He is just like his father in that respect. My son has not allowed anyone to take care of him since he was ten years old.'  
  
'Mommy can take care of Ardeth,' Miranda volunteered. She did a lot of thinking during the last day, and she promised God that if her mommy was okay, she wouldn't ask about marrying Ardeth any more. Since Mommy and Ardeth seemed to like each other, maybe Ardeth could marry Mommy and Miranda at the same time. The little girl added, 'Mommy's lonely, too. She don't say she is, but I heard Aunt Evy say that. She says that Mommy needs someone to take care of her, the way Mommy takes care of me. You think Ardeth could take care of Mommy, and Mommy could take care of Ardeth, and they can take care of me?'  
  
A strange expression crossed Altair's face, and she said, 'I am not sure, little one, things are not that simple. There are many tests that your mother must pass, in order to marry my son. Tests to make sure she is strong enough to be the wife of a Med-jai chieftain. She must be strong, and wise, and accepting. She must accept that she will not be first in Ardeth's life, that the good of the Med-jai must come first.'  
  
'Kinda like I gotta come first with Mommy, before Uncle Jason?' Miranda asked. She heard her mother and Uncle Jason arguing about that. Uncle Jason wanted Mommy to do something, but Mommy told him that Miranda came first, 'cause she was just a little girl. A surprised smile appeared on Altair's face, and Miranda continued, 'Mommy can do that. Even though it's kinda silly, since you all are big people.'  
  
Altair blinked and was silent for several moments, then replied, 'Well. . .yes. But not all Med-jai are adults. There are children, too. Ardeth has a very important and very difficult job. Sometimes, disputes break out among the tribes of the Med-jai and within those tribes as well, and Ardeth must decide who is in the right. Among Europeans, he would be called a king. And then there is the sacred duty of the Med-jai, as the protectors of Hamunaptra.'  
  
Ham. . .what? Miranda scrunched up her face, trying to figure out how to say that word, even though she heard it before. Altair said with a gentle smile, 'Here, I'll say it for you slowly, little one. Ha-moon-ap- tra.' Oh. Okay. So that was how you said it. Altair continued, 'So, you see, even though he is not married and has had no children, in a manner of speaking, my son is like a father. . .because he takes care of our people. And that makes it very hard for him to take care of himself.'  
  
'And that's why he needs Mommy and me to take care of him. Altair, how come he won't let you take care of him, when you're his mommy?' Miranda asked, confused. That just occurred to her. Altair was Ardeth's mommy, which made sense, 'cause she was pretty like him, 'cept she didn't have the marks on her face. But Mommy once told Miranda that even when Miranda was a big girl, she would still take care of her, 'cause even when Miranda was a big girl, she would still be Mommy's little girl.  
  
Miranda told her mommy that made NO sense, and Mommy just laughed. Altair smiled a little sadly and replied, 'Because, little one, I have three other children who need me. . . and Ardeth is our chieftain. It is very difficult for me to take care of Ardeth, when he is not here.' Oh. That made sense. Altair continued, looking curious, 'Miranda. . .do you think your mama would like to take care of Ardeth?'  
  
'Course she would,' Miranda retorted, rolling her eyes, 'she takes care of me, and she likes Ardeth.' Altair smiled suddenly, though Miranda wasn't entirely sure why. She sighed and lay her head down, sighing quietly. She was so tired. Her fear for her mother and Ardeth were finally catching up with her, and Miranda snuggled closer to her mother, completely forgetting about her desire to see about Ardeth. She was sleepy.  
  
. . .  
  
'Why has he not yet awakened?'  
  
A sigh.  
  
'Patience, sister. . .he received a terrible knock on the head, then exhausted himself during the raid. He did not allow himself to collapse until he was sure everyone was all right. And if I know our brother, it is highly unlikely that he truly rested on the barge. Just give him time,' came a familiar voice. There was a pause, then the voice came again, now stern, 'Acacia. Enough. We cannot change Ardeth, and if we truly love him, then we will neither attempt to change him or want to change him.' Acacia and Aleta. . .he might have known. Although, with the way his head was pounding. . .  
  
'Even when he pushes himself to the very brink of death? Dear sister, how many times will we be forced to watch our brother die, or come close to death? How many times will we sit in his tent, praying that he will open his eyes? Yes, we all know that our brother has a duty to his people, but he also has a duty to himself. . .and taking care of himself is necessary. Our people need him healthy and strong!' Acacia again.  
  
'What would you have him do, sister?' Aleta now, her voice unusually harsh, Refuse to take the same risks as the other warriors? Send them into a battle he will not fight himself? He is a warrior, Acacia, and it is that which gives him the loyalty of his men. And the raid this afternoon. . .if they had not rescued the American woman, she would have baked to death. He made a promise to her, and we both know that Ardeth is too honorable to break such a promise, especially if he felt responsible for her.'  
  
Aleta's voice changed now, growing more bitter as she all but growled, 'How *dare* you, Acacia? You have two small children, one of whom is the same age as that darling little Miranda. The same age that Anatol and I were when Father died. Do you wish Miranda to grow up without a mother? I could understand your objection if Ardeth was rescuing some foolish woman who ignored warnings, placing her life and the lives of others in danger. But this is a woman whose only mistake was in trusting her brother!'  
  
'I do not claim that this is Celia Ferguson's fault, tempting as it may be. Whether she wished it or not, my brother could have died rescuing her. I simply do not see why our brother does not share the burden with others. Why must he shoulder these burdens alone, Aleta? Why does he shut us out?' Acacia asked, her voice breaking. Ardeth tried to force his eyes open, but the continuous pounding in his head wouldn't allow that. Yet.  
  
'He does share the burden, Acacia. . .he shares it with the Commanders, with Anatol, with us. You simply ignore those moments. Perhaps, though, you ignore them, because Ardeth comes to me when he is worried or lonely. He fears that you and our mother will harangue him to death over how he works, and he has not the strength or the energy to put up with your complaints or your demands,' Aleta snapped.  
  
'That is not fair! I make no demands on Ardeth, save for my desire for him to take care of himself!' Acacia fired back. It was most assuredly time for Ardeth to open his eyes. They called Acacia 'the thorny one,' because of her personality as well as her name, but Aleta could be just as prickly when she so chose. Ever since Ardeth became chieftain, these arguments between his sisters took place on a regular basis.  
  
This time, he managed to force his eyes open, though it took him a few moments for them to focus. Aleta had her back turned to Acacia, her body practically snapping with annoyance. Aleta, like Ardeth himself, tended to hold back her emotions. Right up until the time someone finally pushed her too far. Most of the time, that someone was Acacia. However, despite her obvious distress, his sister managed a smile for him, saying softly, 'It is good to see your eyes open, my brother, how does your head feel?'  
  
Ardeth grimaced and Aleta's smile became more genuine, as she replied, 'Yes, that was an obvious question, was it not? Just lie still and let me take care of you, brother, all Med-jai are present and accounted for, all injuries have been treated, save your own.' Well, that was one question answered. Ardeth started to ask his next, and Aleta glared at him, adding, 'And before you ask, dear brother. . .Celia Ferguson is fine!'  
  
Ardeth blinked at her obvious irritation with him. He was on the point of asking her what was wrong, but Aleta didn't give him the chance, muttering, 'Honestly, the two of you. . .when she awakens, she asks about her daughter and about you; you awaken, you ask about your warriors and about her!' Aleta stopped and looked at him, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief, rather than the irritation he thought was there.  
  
She winked at him, then continued, 'It makes me wonder, dear brother, what exactly you have been doing. Nothing dishonorable, I know you better than that. But you have been spending a great deal of time with her, aywa?' It was Ardeth's turn to glare at his sister, feeling a telltale flush creep up his face. He was the chieftain, but that did not mean he was immune from teasing, particularly not from his youngest sister.  
  
'I. . .was teaching her to fight. To defend herself and her daughter,' Ardeth replied. Aleta merely arched her brows at him, and Ardeth continued with some exasperation, 'What do you wish me to say, sister? I have been teaching her to defend herself, as Anatol has been teaching Miranda, and when we were watching them, we would talk!' As O'Connell would have said, 'hellfire and damnation!'  
  
Aleta's eyes lit up with mischief and she replied, 'Soooo. . .you and she would talk, would you? And what, dear brother, did you and Miss Ferguson discuss?' Ardeth groaned, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back against his pillows. And he thought O'Connell was bad! Aleta was a hundred times worse. While Acacia was called 'the thorny one,' Aleta was the tenacious one. She never gave up. Did not know how. . . and while it was an admirable trait in a warrior, it tended to drive a brother insane.  
  
Nor would she give up this time. . .Ardeth knew his sister, and knew that if she deemed it necessary, she would assault his dignity with her wiggling fingers. Med-jai chieftains were *not* supposed to be ticklish. Unfortunately, *should* or *supposed to* did not work with his sisters. With a sigh, Ardeth answered, 'We spoke of many things, sister. She told me about her work with the Chicago Museum, I told her about my first encounter with the O'Connells.' Aleta just looked at him expectantly and it took all of Ardeth's self-control to keep from sighing aloud. What did she want from him????  
  
Surprisingly, it was Acacia who came to his rescue this time, saying, 'Please, Aleta, he is telling you that he and Miss Ferguson became friends.' Ardeth nodded, glaring at his youngest sister, who did not look at all worried. Acacia continued warily, 'You and she are just friends, are you not?' This time, Ardeth switched his glare to her, and she backed down, adding, 'I had to ask, brother. You risked your life to save her and you were holding her close when you came into the village, or so we were told.'  
  
'I. . .I. . .I. . .she was frightened! Of course I was holding her!' Ardeth sputtered. Only Aleta could do this to him. The offending younger sister just smirked at him knowingly, and Ardeth continued, trying desperately to salvage what little remained of his dignity, 'I did nothing untoward. She was frightened and tired, and needed some support.' //And it felt good, holding her.// Ardeth quickly stomped on *that* thought, before it could get him into trouble.  
  
'Of course you did not. . .you would never dishonor a woman. Our sister merely derives pleasure from tormenting you. It is simple payback, for all the times you have frightened us,' Acacia put in. Ardeth glared at her. . .she was NOT helping. Acacia grimaced and said, 'I think Darius and Damara have probably found some trouble, especially if they wandered into the O'Connell tent. . .I should check on them.'  
  
Ardeth just groaned again. This time, it was because he never considered the dangers of having his niece and nephew anywhere near the O'Connell family. Besides, his head was starting to throb once more. After Acacia left, there were several moments of silence. Aleta finally said softly, 'Truly, my brother. How do you feel about her?'  
  
Ardeth opened his eyes and looked at Aleta, answering softly, 'It matters little what I feel. She is destined for another. She is Lady Ardath reborn.' Aleta blinked in astonishment, her mouth forming a little 'o,' and Ardeth continued, 'She is meant for the reincarnation of Rameses.' He hadn't answered her question, and he knew it. Ardeth added with a sigh, 'I am drawn to her, Aleta. I enjoy being with her, talking to her. . . seeing her smile.'  
  
'You think her pretty,' Aleta said, her dark eyes sparkling with laughter. Ardeth just glared at her again, and Aleta laughed, 'You *do,* my brother, that is wonderful! Listen to me, Ardeth. . .she may be the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. But that means little, for it may not be time for them to reunited. Are you truly so afraid of falling in love with her that you would deny yourself the pleasure of her company?' Ardeth hated admitting fear of anything. But yes. That was exactly what he feared. Even if Aleta was right, he couldn't see a way out. . . and he could not yet trust his heart to guide him.  
  
. . .  
  
Variations on that conversation were repeated over the next few days, as both Ardeth and Celia recovered their strength. Unfortunately, Ardeth's recovery was slower. While the American woman almost baked to death after being drugged and chloroformed, Ardeth was seriously injured several times during the last few months. When he collapsed in the tent, his body had enough.  
  
Or so Celia was told when she asked Aleta. The youngest Bey sister had no qualms about telling Celia anything about her older brother. Including things that Celia was certain Ardeth didn't want her to know, such as the fact that he almost died in London. They were also things that Celia didn't think she should know, since she had divided loyalties. It was becoming very clear to her that Ardeth's family didn't have much use for Rick O'Connell.  
  
She already learned a little of Ardeth's history with the O'Connell- Carnahan family. Aleta was more than happy to fill in the rest, though Celia made a mental note to herself to compare what Aleta told her with Evy's version later, in the interest of fairness and loyalty. Ardeth first saw Rick ten years earlier, while he and several Med-jai were watching over Hamunaptra. Rick was part of the French Legion at the time. What the French Legion was doing in Egypt, at Hamunaptra, Celia had no idea, but there it was.  
  
They met three years later, when Rick took Evelyn and Jonathan Carnahan to Hamunaptra (there it was again). Ardeth led a raid against the expeditions, warning them to leave or die. And from Aleta, Celia learned for the first time what happened when a victim of the hom-dai was released. Aleta, like her older sister, lost her husband when the Creature rose; unlike her sister, she never took another husband.  
  
Celia listened as Aleta told what happened during those awful days between Imhotep's resurrection and the battle within Hamunaptra, and she understood some of the bitterness toward the O'Connells. Ardeth almost lost his life. Aleta's husband died when the Creature was raised, while Acacia's husband died in the raid against Hamunaptra. The price of Evy's curiosity was high in Med-jai blood. And knowing that it was part of their sacred duty did not lessen any of Aleta's fury, or Acacia's, for that matter.  
  
As the daughter of her parents, it was difficult for Celia to reconcile what Aleta was telling her with the world as she knew it. But at the same time, Celia was also Annabelle's granddaughter, and she realized that there was far more to the world than what they knew. That wasn't even taking into account her memories of being Lady Ardath. Walking, talking corpses with the power of gods; walls of sand and water which swallowed up airplanes and other such air transports; reincarnations of murderous concubines. . .  
  
Who was Celia's best friend, in a previous life. The American woman hadn't shared that piece of information with anyone other than Evy so far. . .she didn't know how the Med-jai of today regarded her previous incarnation, or her relationship with Anck-su-namun. Since Anck-su-namun murdered the pharaoh, with aid from Imhotep, it was unlikely that her friend would be highly regarded. In time, the two women spoke of other things. . .including Miranda. Aleta was as enraged by Carstairs' duplicity as her two brothers were.  
  
She assured Celia that to the Med-jai, she was *not* damaged goods. She was the injured party, and would be considered a widow. Never mind that she was not legally married to Carstairs. She entered into the commitment with honorable intentions, and no reason to think she would be duped. Therefore, she was not the guilty one. For reasons that Celia could not fully explain to herself. . .that made her feel better.  
  
On the third day after the rescue, Celia found the courage to ask Aleta about Lady Ardath. The courage, and the opening she needed. Evy, bless her heart, gave her the opening she needed when she referenced the change in the Med-jai when they learned she was the reincarnation of Nefertiri. Remembering that conversation, Celia asked slowly, 'Aleta, what do you know of the concubine, Lady Ardath?'  
  
Aleta looked up from her reading and asked with a frown, 'Lady Ardath, concubine to Rameses? Where did you hear of her?' Celia shrugged ever so slightly, and Aleta continued, 'Lady Ardath is a heroine, one of the greatest heroines of the Med-jai people. She is also the mother of one of our first chieftains, after the hom-dai was cast. . .Ardeth Bey, for whom my brother is named.'  
  
Aleta took a deep breath, then continued, 'For that alone, she is one of our greatest heroines, though she was murdered when Ardeth was a newborn. She and Rameses created him, and Shakir Bey raised him. But she is also a heroine to us, for the courage she showed, and the love that our ancestors held for her. She was a girl from a distant shore; no one is entirely certain from whence she came. But we do know that she was found by Hebrew slaves when she was a small girl. They cared for her for six years and gave her the name of 'Ardath,' since she could not remember her own.'  
  
Celia said nothing, and Aleta went on, 'She had two foster mothers. The first was a woman named 'Miriam.' When Ardath was ten, something happened to Miriam, and Ardath ended up in Thebes as a house slave. She was taken under the wing of another house slave, named 'Jael,' as well as a young girl named 'Anck-su-namun.' When she was fifteen, she caught the eye of Rameses, when she defended a Med-jai child against his cousin, Khaldun.  
  
'She became his concubine, and much to the surprise of all, he fell deeply in love with her. They had five years together, before she was murdered. In that time, she did what she could to aid others. The Med-jai loved her, because she protected one of their children and because she helped them when she could. Indeed, her aid during an assassination attempt on Seti's life cost her the life of her first child, a little girl.'  
  
The words of the Med-jai woman, regarding the miscarriage of Ardath's first child, served to trigger a three thousand year old memory. It felt as if a light wind caressed her hair and her face. . .and then Celia could see through Ardath's eyes and feel what she felt. She felt Ardath falling after crying out a warning to Seti and the Med-jai, the impact of her landing, and the blinding pain that threatened to tear her in half. Ardath knew she was losing her baby. Through that haze of pain, Ardath had felt Seti gather her in his arms, shouting for the Med-jai. . .and whisper to her to hold on.  
  
Celia gasped as that memory washed over her. . .she could actually feel Pharaoh's arms cradling her, holding her tight as pain overwhelmed her. She heard, through that blanket of agony, him shouting first for the Med-jai, then for Imhotep, then finally for Rameses. Celia whispered, still caught in the memory, 'They tried to save the baby. . . Imhotep tried to save the baby. . .but they could only save her.'  
  
More memories. . .she felt as though she just undammed a river while standing in the middle of it, and now the memories were washing over her, tumbling her over and over. The pain abruptly ended. . .no. Not ended. . .dulled. Rameses cradling her against his body as she wept for their little girl, the prince soothing her by telling her that it wasn't her fault. Seti, coming to see her later, trying desperately to comfort her, though he didn't really know how.  
  
And then, Celia was herself again, staring at a wide-eyed Aleta. The young woman asked, her voice barely above a whisper, 'Yes. . .how did you know? How did you know that the Creature, while he was still a good man, tried to save both mother and child? How did you even know about Lady Ardath? The only historical records which have ever spoken of her have been among the Med-jai!'  
  
'Because, Aleta,' Celia answered wearily, 'I *was* Lady Ardath. Or rather, I am her reincarnation.' Aleta just stared at her. . .and then her eyes lit up with joy. Celia squeaked in surprise as Aleta threw her arms around the American happily, saying something in Arabic which Celia couldn't understand. Then Aleta pulled back, grinning like a loon, and Celia could not figure out why.  
  
'You remember! That is wonderful! My poor brother lived in that time, but he remembers not whom he was,' Aleta finally said. Celia blinked in surprise at Aleta's obvious pleasure that she remembered. It took all of her self-control to keep from blurting out that she knew Ardeth's identity in the past, until she remembered that he was not yet ready to remember. And she didn't want Aleta put in the position of having to keep such a secret from her brother.  
  
Unfortunately, that didn't stop her from dropping her eyes. Aleta, being Ardeth's sister, noticed immediately, and asked, 'You know, do you not? You know of my brother's previous incarnation.' Celia reluctantly nodded. . .she wasn't a very good liar, and didn't want to repay Aleta's care of her with lies. Aleta continued, 'You must tell me!' Celia didn't answer, just looked at her for a long time. Aleta returned the look, frowning thoughtfully, and then she inhaled sharply. She whispered, 'It was Rameses? Oh, Isis. . .my poor brother!'  
  
. . .  
  
Rameses. The name echoed in Aleta Bey's mind. Rameses, who was driven mad first by his concubine's murder, then by Khaldun's mockery. Could it be? Her beloved brother was the reincarnation of that madman? Aleta, like her mother and sister, was always touched by the love story of Rameses and Ardath, as well the tragedy of Ardath's murder when she was so young. Aleta had not liked Rameses very much, for punishing the entire Med- jai people for the wrongdoing of a few. It offended her childish sense of logic and fair play.  
  
But it wasn't until the Creature rose the first time that she understood. Not that she particularly liked it. . .but she understood; and sometimes, that was all that once could ask. But this was not acceptable. Her brother could not be the reincarnation of Rameses! Not Ardeth! If it was any of her brothers, then it would have been Andreas. Ardeth was too reasonable, too rational.  
  
No. Celia had to be mistaken. But as Aleta looked into the hazel eyes of her new friend, she saw no uncertainty. The American woman whispered, 'Reincarnation, my friend, is about second chances. Rameses was not a bad man. Nor was Seti. They were only men who made terrible mistakes. When Ardeth was born, with the memories of that previous life, as well as others, the gods knew that if his memories were intact, he would never accept his second chance, or his forgiveness. . .or Ardath's love.'  
  
That sounded right. Aleta whispered, 'What will we do? Ardeth believes he is. . . oh, what is your word for this situation? He believes you are off limits to him, because you are the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. That is why he seeks to rebuild the walls you crashed. He fears falling in love with you, because he believes you are meant for another.' Celia sighed very slowly, leaning her head back against the pillows.  
  
'I don't know, Aleta. I know I'm supposed to be the one who awakens his memories, but slowly. The trouble is, I don't know of a way I can do that slowly. Just now, when you mentioned Ardath's miscarriage. . .that opened up one of the doors of my memory. I felt like I was drowning. I. . .wait a minute! You *knew* that I was Lady Ardath in my previous life?' Celia blurted out, glaring at Aleta.  
  
Aleta, however, grew up with Ardeth, Acacia, and Andreas Bey as her older siblings; and Altair Bey was her mother. Celia's glare was hardly enough to frighten her. Still, she did feel badly for her minor subterfuge. She simply wanted to make sure that this American was being honest. . .that Celia Ferguson was worthy to be trusted with Ardeth's heart. She never fussed at Ardeth, the way her mother and elder sister did, but she was just as protective. Aleta never expected, however, to find out that her brother was Rameses reborn.  
  
Celia added, sighing, 'Well, Ardeth knows my identity in the past, since Evy and I were discussing it. . .and Ardeth was listening to our conversation. In fact, he agreed with Evy that he thought my dreams were actually memories of my past life. But there's something else. Why did he come after me, Aleta? Why would he risk his life. . .he could have sent someone else or asked the Commanders to intercept the kidnappers. Why did he do that?' Aleta looked at her, and found only an honest confusion.  
  
'First, he holds himself responsible for your abduction,' the healer explained with a sigh. Celia's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Aleta continued, 'Please listen. . .in the eyes of my brother, he failed you. It does not matter, the why of it. As far as Ardeth is concerned, he is responsible for your abduction, therefore, he is responsible for your rescue. It matters not that he was hurt while attempting to rescue you at the bazaar. It is simply the way Ardeth is. . .we have learned to accept it.'  
  
'You have, you mean,' corrected Celia, 'I've gotten the feeling that your older sister and mother feel quite differently.' Aleta raised her eyebrows at that questioningly. Celia shrugged, adding, 'I hear things. . .I'm not always sure what I'm hearing, especially when I'm half-awake, but I do hear things. Your mother and sister fuss about Ardeth's tendency to push himself. But something Garai said really got my attention.'  
  
Oh, and what might that be? At the hidden prompt, Celia continued, 'He observed to Evy O'Connell that he thought Ardeth pushed himself harder after an argument with your mother or your sister. Like he was trying to get rid of. . .well, like he was angry, and needed a focus for that anger. He also said that when the tribes act like they can deal with things on their own, Ardeth backs off. He pushes himself also because he thinks he's needed more than usual.'  
  
Hmmm. Interesting observation. Aleta really didn't know Garai that well. . .but she did remember what he said a few days earlier, when he carried Celia into her tent. With that in mind, Aleta asked, 'Celia. . .is it possible that Garai knew Lady Ardath in his previous life?' Celia frowned, and the healer continued, 'When he carried you in here, he said something very strange. He said that he would not let you die again. . .or watch you die again.'  
  
'It's possible, of course. . .anything is possible. I just haven't been around him long enough to know what. . .or rather, whom he was,' Celia acknowledged. Aleta nodded her understanding. There was a brief silence, then Celia asked slowly, 'Aleta. . . when can I see Ardeth? So I can thank him properly?' Ah-ha! Took her long enough! The young healer waited for that request for the last few days!  
  
'I believe you are strong enough now. . .and Ardeth is up to having visitors. However, there are a few ground rules. First, you will not go to my brother's tent unaccompanied. Garai will take you. . .and no, it is not for the reason you are thinking. It is a pure practical reason. While you are strong enough to walk around the tent, you are not strong enough to walk to Ardeth's tent,' Aleta explained.  
  
'And Garai will supervise us? Chaperone, I mean?' Celia inquired. Aleta shook her head, and the American woman frowned. Aleta could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to understand. Though Aleta and Acacia told Celia that the Med-jai followed the old ways, Celia was still struggling to shift her mind out of Cairo and into the desert, where different rules applied. Especially to the Med-jai. After a moment, Celia asked, her confusion quite obvious to the Med-jai woman, 'Aleta? Why not? I mean, I am an unmarried woman, and Ardeth is an unmarried man. We are not related.'  
  
'True. . .however, you are both mature adults, who may be trusted to act accordingly. As I told you before, Celia. Among our people, you are regarded as a widow. Perhaps you exercised poor judgment when you 'married' that pitiful excuse for a man, but you acted in good faith. And we Med-jai know that women are not the only ones who can exercise poor judgment. Men do the same. Besides, if you have learned nothing else about my people, you should know that we are very practical. And having a warrior. . .oh, what is your term for watching children? Babysit? Having a warrior babysit two adults would be highly impractical,' Aleta replied.  
  
She paused, grinned impishly, then added, 'However, you should not be surprised if you are. . .visited during your conversation with Ardeth.' Celia just gave her a rueful smile, and Aleta put her hand over the American woman's, adding, 'Do not be afraid of us, Celia. Few Med-jai hold you responsible for our chieftain's injuries. We know him too well. And the ones who do. . .they are petty, irresponsible people. We Med-jai do not claim to be better than others. We have bad apples, just as all do.'  
  
Celia gave a rueful smile, answering, 'Sorry. Old habits die hard. So. . .do we give advance notice? I mean, Ardeth might have a few things to say about being invaded.' Aleta threw back her head and laughed at that. Still, she had to admit, Celia had a point. Her brother could be an intensely private person. Look at how long it took before the O'Connell family even arrived at any of the Med-jai encampments. Aleta resolved she would deal with that herself. For now, Celia was looking rather sleepy.  
  
. . .  
  
Celia wasn't the only one who hadn't seen Ardeth since the day of the rescue. Each time Evy asked, she was politely put off. . .told that he was still regaining his strength. Ardeth would need time to recover, not just from the attack in the bazaar and the rescue, but from everything he went through during the last few months. But at least they were polite to her. . .Rick didn't fare so well, particularly among the young warriors.  
  
Garai explained it this way. They were young and hotheaded, just as Andreas Bey was. They did not like the way Rick O'Connell treated their chieftain, and weren't shy about saying so. Usually in the hopes of goading the outsider into an argument, and then a fight, so they could prove their superiority. So far, none of them realized the only way to get Rick O'Connell into a fight was to go after Evy and Alex. Something Garai knew, and wouldn't tell.  
  
These Med-jai warriors were still very young and didn't think about the consequences of their actions. And while they were taught to respect women from a very early age, there were a few who were a little slow in learning that lesson. So, Evy and Garai decided it would be their little secret. Not because Garai had any liking or respect for Evy's husband. . .he didn't. . .but because he did not believe it was fair for Evy and Alex to get caught in the crossfire.  
  
Further, to acknowledge this weakness of Rick's, for lack of a better word, would only undermine Ardeth, something Garai would never do. While he didn't like Rick, Garai accepted that his chieftain considered him a friend, and Garai would not call his chieftain's judgment into question. At the same time, the reincarnation of Sennefer warned Rick to be very careful. Garai's only loyalty was to Ardeth Bey.  
  
He glared at Rick as he explained this. Garai cared nothing for O'Connell and only fought alongside the man because Rick's fights were the same as Garai's. That was the only reason. He had no loyalty or liking for the American, and he only acknowledged O'Connell as a Med-jai out of respect for Ardeth. When the day came that their battles were no longer the same, Garai would have no compunction with killing him, if need be.  
  
As if believing that this wasn't enough to make his point, Garai added, 'The moment your stupidity puts the life of my chieftain in danger, O'Connell, is the same moment that yours is forfeit. We Med-jai understand that death is a part of life. But by the same coin, we also recognize how precious life is. . .and we do not take kindly to those who see our chieftain's life as cheap. People such as yourself, O'Connell.'  
  
Evy asked quietly, 'But don't you think, Garai, that you are undermining Ardeth with these statements?' He looked at her and his eyes softened very briefly. Sennefer was fond of Nefertiri, just as he was fond of Ardath. But as they were reminded. . .Evy was not Nefertiri. Meela was Anck-su-namun. And Celia was not Ardath, though Evy had no doubt that her friend had a similar temper if pushed far enough.  
  
'I am not undermining my chieftain. I am warning your husband of the consequences which will fall on his head, should he betray my chieftain. There is quite a large difference,' Garai answered. He added, 'And your husband *will* betray my chieftain, if the price is right.' And there it was. While Ardeth and his Commanders were willing to trust Rick, the 'rank and file,' as he put it, were not.  
  
They quickly realized it was not that the Med-jai disliked foreigners. Rather, they were cautious. . .reserving judgment. Evy recognized that her brother was quickly accepted, and when she questioned that, it was Hanif who explained to her, 'Because when Jonathan hesitated at the bazaar, it was due to his desire to look out for Miranda, a little child. That, we can respect. But because your husband seems to regard the lives of the Med-jai as cheap. . .attitudes toward him are quite different.'  
  
And there it was again, that contempt among the rank and file toward Rick. Their belief that he would sacrifice every Med-jai alive, if it suited his purposes. Yes, he could be ruthless where she and Alex were concerned, but he wasn't cold-blooded enough to sacrifice an entire people! It disturbed Evy greatly. It disturbed her even more that she was not allowed to visit Celia. Like Ardeth, she was still recovering her strength. Or so Evy was told. . .she could understand the protectiveness toward Ardeth, but Celia was a Westerner like Evy herself, and Rick. Something was not adding up.  
  
About four days after the rescue, however, Evy happened to see a small form being carried by Garai from Aleta's tent. While she hadn't seen Celia lately, Miranda was often brought to their tent while her mother was sleeping, and she told them that her mother was getting better. And much to Miranda's distress, her mother blamed herself for the abduction and for the upset it caused the four year old girl. Miranda thought her mother was being silly. . .it was Uncle Jason's fault, and the fault of those mean men who had hurt Ardeth. No one else.  
  
Evy comforted the child as best she could, and continued to wonder what was happening. When she saw Garai carrying Celia across the camp, Evy saw her chance. While they were not permitted to visit Celia or Ardeth, they were not confined to their tent. Jonathan made himself very popular with the children, as had Alex, while Evy learned what she could of the Med- jai people during her walks.  
  
So, when she saw Garai carrying Celia and left her tent, no one stopped her. She made no attempt to follow them. . .simply watched them, taking note of which tent Garai carried her into. It hadn't escaped Evy's notice, Garai's protectiveness toward Celia. She knew some of it was due to Sennefer's lingering guilt over Ardath's murder. . .but, that was three thousand years ago. No. . .something else was going on. And she planned to find out what that something was.  
  
Now that was interesting. Evy observed silently as Garai carried Celia into a tent almost directly across from Aleta's. That was something else she needed to check on. Never had Evy heard the married names of either of Ardeth's sisters. They were always referred to as 'Acacia Bey' or 'Aleta Bey.' She never heard an explanation of that which made sense. Well, scratch that. . .she hadn't received ANY explanations. Then again. . .she hadn't asked.  
  
Evy's instincts told her, though the tent looked no different than anyone else's, that it belonged to Ardeth. She needed verification and she needed a plan. Ever since her discovery that Ardeth was the reincarnation of Rameses, Evy walked a tightrope, fearing that something she said would inadvertently unleash memories which her friend and brother was not yet ready to face. Evy herself remembered the many terrible arguments which raged between Nefertiri and Rameses after Ardath's murder. . .the hurtful things they said to each other.  
  
But. . .wasn't there more of a chance that Celia would unlock those memories, as the reincarnation of the woman whom Rameses loved? Evy would have thought so. On the other hand, perhaps Celia simply wished to thank Ardeth for coming after her. One thing Evy had realized about her friend over the last several days. . .Celia didn't consider herself to be anyone important, except to Miranda. Ardeth risking his life, as he did for her, was something that she would not take for granted.  
  
But still, it nagged at Evy's mind. She knew herself that the memories did not always come back gently. She had only to remember dangling from the dirigible after remembering Seti's murder. Evy knew she would have died, if Rick, Jonathan, and Ardeth hadn't pulled her to safety. A soft voice which seemed familiar to her, whispered, //He will remember when it is time, Nefertiri, as he becomes ready. We would not destroy his sanity, just when we have succeeded in returning his beloved to him.//  
  
The same wind which swept over Evy first in Thebes, then when she saw Meela Nais in the basement of the British Museum had accompanied those words. Evy shivered slightly, and that voice came again, now whispering, //Be not afraid, Nefertiri. Though the night will be long and dark, remember that we are with you, as we are with your brother and his beloved. All will be right in the end.// All will be right in the end. Why did that sentence fill Evy with such fear, for everyone whom she loved?  
  
'Evy? Honey?' Rick asked, and Evy almost lost her balance when she turned to face him. Rick grabbed her, repeating, 'Evy? What is it? Uh. . .no. No, no, no. . .not again!' Evy looked at him in confusion. No what? Rick continued, 'The last time I saw that look on your face was in Thebes.' Evy glared at him in true irritation, and Rick asked almost sheepishly, 'So you're not about to suggest another treasure hunt which may get us killed?'  
  
'No, I am not! I just had the strangest. . .waking dream. I've been afraid that Celia might inadvertently trigger some of Ardeth's memories of being Rameses. But. . .I just. . .I had a vision, without seeing anything. Someone told me that the memories would not be awakened until he was ready. . .that they weren't willing to destroy his sanity, just when the reincarnation of his love has been returned to him,' Evy replied.  
  
'Well. . .that's good, isn't it?' Rick asked and Evy nodded. She was still puzzling over the last statement. About the long, dark night. . .and things coming right in the end. Rick continued, 'Good, 'cause there might be trouble. I just overheard some of the commanders talking. Seems that the five warriors Ardeth sent after Jason never came back. And Ardeth just authorized that Greek Commander, Alekos, to take a small group of men to Hamunaptra.'  
  
'He thinks something has gone wrong?' Evy asked, that sudden chill once more sweeping over her, and Rick nodded grimly. She said very quietly, 'Rick. . .we can't let Ardeth do this alone. We both abandoned him once before, when he needed us the most. I won't do it again.' Rick said nothing, just wrapped his arms around her. That alone worried her. . .but Evy made her choice. She loved Ardeth. . .and Celia. . .too much to betray them a second time.  
  
. . .  
  
Seven years earlier, when Altair Bey told him that she sent Anatol to Hamunaptra to make sure Ardeth was alive, Garai thought he would never see his chieftain again. He feared that for the third time, a youthful son of Suleiman Bey would ascend to the level of chieftain, and things would start all over again. The wars with the Elders, the struggles within the tribes. . .and Rameses would not have his second chance to love his Lady Ardath. Garai was overjoyed, then, when Anatol and Aric returned to the Hamunaptra camp with Ardeth.  
  
Their chieftain was injured and exhausted. . .in part, Anatol said with a roll of his eyes, because he bade his two companions to remain hidden while Ardeth parted ways with the outsiders who awakened the Creature in the first place. It seemed the proud young warrior didn't want them to see just how badly he was hurt. It didn't matter to Garai. It only mattered that Ardeth would live. Second chances were too important to squander, and their chieftain was too important to lose now, at a time of such promise.  
  
Not that anyone was terribly sure that he would live, after he collapsed practically at his mother's feet. On the other hand, Aleta kept reminding their people, there were so many times when Ardeth *should* have died, but didn't. . .what made them think that this time would be any different? He was strong, stronger than Andreas was. Perhaps he was even stronger than their own father was. And her pride in her older brother could clearly be seen.  
  
When Ardeth collapsed only days earlier, Garai feared only that he would not have time to recover. Not that his chieftain would die. . .not right off at least. For that reason, he went to the Commanders and pleaded with them to settle any problems among their tribes while he healed. It was not common. . .for any warrior to make such a plea to the commanders, on the behalf of another. But this was hardly a common situation.  
  
Too many times now, they faced losing one of their greatest warriors, and one of the greatest chieftains known to the Med-jai. It was written that the only chieftain who faced trials similar to those faced by Ardeth was his namesake, the first Med-jai chieftain to grow up outside Thebes. And fortunately for Garai, the commanders agreed with him. Today was the first time that any of them approached Ardeth about tribal business.  
  
In this case, though, they had no choice. . .the five men dispatched to intercept Jason Ferguson before he reached Hamunaptra never returned. Alekos would take a few of his men from the Geban tribe to investigate. Garai knew that Ardeth feared the worst, but as the leader, that was part of his job. He had to anticipate the worst, in order to prepare for what would come. The trouble was, the worst just kept getting worse.  
  
Garai was distracted from these concerns when he received word from Aleta that Celia Ferguson wished to speak with Ardeth in person and thank him for saving her life. The youngest Bey sister then asked if he would see if Ardeth would mind such a meeting, observing with an impish grin that when she met the warriors who participated in the raid, she thanked them as well. Some things never changed.  
  
Garai went to his chieftain and relayed the message. For the first time in days, the older man had the pleasure of seeing Ardeth's eyes light up with something other than concern. He looked pleased. . .but of course, never said so. Instead, he replied quite formally that such a meeting would not be a difficulty for him. Remembering Aleta and Acacia's tendency to tease their older brother about his formal speech, Garai thought, //in other words, yes, the chieftain would love to meet with her.//  
  
And so, Garai carried Celia from Aleta's tent to Ardeth's. That provided him with another pleasant surprise. When he announced himself at Aleta's tent, to take the American to see his chieftain, Aleta admitted him, then formally introduced him to Celia. She stared at him. . .then while sitting straight up, her eyes rolled back in her head, her body swaying slightly. When she opened her eyes, she whispered, 'Sennefer?'  
  
Garai thought his heart would explode with joy. . .especially when Celia's face lit up with a joyful smile as she breathed, 'Sennefer! It *is* you!' Garai fell to his knees in front of her and Celia almost sobbed, 'Oh Sennefer. . .how many times must I tell you, never kneel before me!' If Garai had any more doubts that this woman was the reincarnation of his mistress, those doubts were swept away with that statement. Ardath *hated* when people knelt before her.  
  
While Garai wanted nothing more than to speak with the reincarnation of Sennefer's mistress, his chieftain awaited. . .and that was a much more important reunion. Aleta asked him to carry Celia all the way. . .she wasn't yet strong enough to walk that distance. Garai agreed, and gently lifted Celia into his arms. She smiled at him, her hazel eyes twinkling, and Garai had to smile back. This did bring back memories.  
  
The reasons for such gestures weren't always pleasant. Sennefer suspected that half the time when Anck ran for him, after Rameses chose Ardath, was because the foreign concubine was attacked by one of Khaldun's cohorts. Anck would find her friend, and since she could not always carry Ardath, Anck would find Sennefer. The Med-jai would then carry Ardath to her own quarters.  
  
However, neither Sennefer's reincarnation nor Ardath's spoke of those times. Instead, the walk from Aleta's tent to Ardeth's was quiet. Celia asked only one question, 'You know that Ardeth is the reincarnation of Rameses?' When he nodded, she nodded as well, then said nothing more. If she remembered that, as well as her own identity in that previous life, then it was a good chance she knew she had to be very careful about how she awakened Ardeth's memories of being Rameses.  
  
That, in part, would help to determine her future with the Med-jai. She was likely struggling with her own memories of her previous life, and taking care not to awaken Ardeth's memories prematurely. It was a difficult balancing act, to be sure, but that sort of balancing act would be required if she was to be the wife of the chieftain. Garai could not have said why, but he knew this was the destiny of Celia Ferguson.  
  
If she passed this test, and the tests to come, Garai knew he could vocally back her when the Council of Elders debated her worthiness to marry their chieftain. Back when Suleiman wed Altair, such a meeting would have never taken place, because there was no council of elders, but a loose confederation of Med-jai tribes, with the chieftain at the head. It was only in the last thirty years that the twelve tribes became one entity. It was just as well, because Altair faced struggles of her own just among the Asu tribe.  
  
Ardeth faced daily struggles as the Med-jai chieftain, and the woman who stood at his side had to be strong enough to pick up the pieces of his heart after an event such as Ahm Shere. More to the point, Garai sensed the fact that Celia was an outsider might force her to have more strength than someone from within the Med-jai, difficult as their life was and as much adversity as the Med-jai faced on a daily basis. She would face an uphill battle, winning the acceptance of the Med-jai. . .much like the uphill battles which Ardeth faced when he tried to bring the Med-jai into the twentieth century.  
  
As he carried the young woman into his chieftain's tent, Garai remembered a piece of wisdom. 'Similar wounds cause similar scars.' It seemed perfect for two lonely people such as his chieftain and Celia Ferguson. Ardeth looked up, and Garai had the pleasure of seeing his chieftain's eyes light up at the sight of them. Garai very gently lowered his cargo to her own feet, and Celia whispered, 'Thank you.' Ardeth repeated her thanks in Arabic, and Celia repeated, trying to match Ardeth's intonation, 'Shukran.'  
  
It took all of Garai's self-control to simply incline his head and smile, before leaving the tent. But as he turned his back and moved toward the entrance, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Celia approached Ardeth and slid to her knees. They weren't touching. But they didn't need to. With a satisfied smile, as two hearts took another step toward each other, Garai left the tent. For now, his work was done. 


	14. Ardeth Remembers

Elissa: Thanks, hon, welcome aboard! That means a lot, coming from a fellow Ardeth adorer! I'm sorry I missed you on my last pass, but I was in the process of uploading the new chapters when your review showed up.  
  
Cindy: Another new reviewer, welcome aboard to you as well. And, as requested, here are two more chapters! I hope you enjoy them.  
  
Deana: My eternal reviewer! Yup, that's Ardeth. . .push himself until he can't push any more, but that doesn't stop him from trying.  
  
Med-jai Angel: Fitting name! Welcome aboard! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!  
  
Wellduh: This is actually the longest fic I've ever written, and it was also my first Mummy fic. My first stories tend to be the weakest. This was also something of an experiment for me, and over all, I'm rather pleased with the results. I'd never tried a plot that was quite as complex, weaving all the threads together. The second story is much shorter, and much more balanced.  
  
To the reviewer who didn't leave a name: (takes deep breath) Okay, here goes: Alex is Rick and Evy's adopted son. Celia is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, Ardeth Bey's ancestress and his name is derived from hers. She was Rameses' concubine, and Anck-su-namun's best friend, and because she was a lifelong friend to the Med-jai, she took her place in their legends. Most of the stories about her focused on the gentle side of her nature. However, she did have a temper. When Rameses made the mistake of walking away from her during an argument, Ardath lost her temper and threw a goblet at him. It was to get his attention, but it ended up knocking him unconscious. Once everyone got over the shock of sweet, quiet Ardath losing her temper, those who knew her and loved her started teasing her about it. It became a running joke. As for Anck disappearing. . .I'm confused. Anck is in a Place-in-Between. Neither the Afterlife, nor the Underworld. She didn't disappear.  
  
(pant, pant, gasp, gasp) Whew. Never did that many reviews before. . .I think two pages were just added onto chapter thirteen.  
  
Part Thirteen  
  
She slowly slid to her knees in front of Ardeth, her eyes never leaving his face. This was the first time she saw him since the rescue. . .and while she saw him, neither of them were exactly at their best. He still looked tired. But his smile for her was genuine, and Celia was terribly grateful that she was already kneeling. His smile had a devastating effect on her.  
  
"Thank you for saving my life," she said quietly. That was the only way she could say it, without turning into Niagara Falls. She couldn't tell him about how scared she was, or angry. He dipped his head, and Celia continued, "I mean, I know that the others did the same, and I've been thanking them where I could. Aleta took care of me after we got here, and I've thanked her for that as well. But you made the decision to come after me. You were already hurt, and you came after me anyhow. I. . .I don't know how to say thank you properly for that."  
  
"You already have," came the calm reply. Celia didn't know what to say to that. Ardeth continued, "I was responsible for your safety, Celia. I did not reach you in time to prevent your abduction. You need not thank me for doing something which had to be done." Celia shook her head. There was a part of her which felt a bit hurt that he regarded her as a responsibility, but that dissolved as he said softly, his eyes flickering ever so briefly, "And I wished to do it."  
  
"You're wrong, you know. I do have to thank you. Aleta. . .well, I know you've been through a lot during the last few months. You haven't slowed down since Ahm Shere, there have been too many things going on. You were on your vacation. . .and then all this happened," Celia replied. She looked away from him briefly, then looked back and said softly, "How do you do it, Ardeth? How have you kept going, through all the pain and sickness and everything?"  
  
"Because I must," Ardeth answered simply, "I know of no other way to be. This is whom I am, and whom I have always been." Celia shook her head. That wasn't what she meant. She accepted that Ardeth was whom and what he always was. But where did he find the strength to do that? She knew he was but a man, that there were days when not even he was sure if he could go on.  
  
"I know that, Ardeth. I've never thought otherwise. You do what you do, because it's what you must do. But where do you find the strength, to move past the pain? Aleta and Evy both told me about the scratches on your chest and shoulders from that thing on the bus. Evy told me about getting thrown around in the dirigible when it crashed. You had a job to do, and you did it. . .but how?" Celia asked.  
  
"How do you take care of Miranda when you are yourself sick? You simply do it. It is no different," Ardeth observed. Celia gave him a Look, and he added with a faint smile, "Perhaps it is somewhat different. You do what you must, Celia, as you said. It was necessary for me to come for you. I could not have lived with myself, if I allowed a friend to die. For any reason." He can't stand to let people down. . .but what about people who let him down?  
  
"That why you sometimes put up with Rick O'Connell and his attitude?" Celia asked. Ardeth stared at her, and she continued, "I got a taste of his attitude. He was warning me off at the bazaar just before Jason. . ." Celia allowed her voice to trail off. Jason. She hadn't thought of her brother in days, hadn't let herself think about him. She hadn't even thought about dealing with that particular betrayal.  
  
"Warning you off how, exactly?" Ardeth asked, a slight edge in his voice. Celia lifted her head to look at him, a bit startled. And then she realized what he was asking her. How was Rick O'Connell warning her off. . .oh, that might not have been such a good idea, bringing that up! But it was too late now, and the idea of lying to this man didn't even register in her mind. You simply did not lie to Ardeth Bey.  
  
"He told me that he knew you were attracted to me and wanted to know what I would do about it. He seemed to worry that I would use your attraction to me. And wanted to know if I felt the same about you," Celia replied slowly, choosing her words very carefully to make sure she didn't make a bad situation worse. Too late. Ardeth's eyes flashed with rage, and Celia started to say something, anything to defuse the situation.  
  
"He. . .had. . .no. . .right!" Ardeth hissed. His hands were twisted in the blankets under his body, quivering with suppressed rage. A stream of Arabic was the next thing, and Celia was rather grateful that she didn't understand very much of the language. Because she was quite sure none of it was particularly complimentary toward Rick O'Connell. At last, Ardeth finally calmed down and said, "My apologies, I should not have said any of that."  
  
Celia blinked, then asked, "Were any of those insults directed at me?" It was Ardeth's turn to blink as he shook his head slowly, warily. Celia replied, "Then don't apologize to me. I didn't understand a word you just said anyhow."  
  
Ardeth stared at her for a long moment, and then he smiled. Celia felt her heart skip a beat once more. She really needed to stop that, before he gave her a heart attack. Ardeth replied, inclining his head, "Shukran. You have my thanks for forgiving my poor manners. But I maintain O'Connell had no right to speak in such a way to you. You have never been anything but honest and forthright in your dealings."  
  
"Truth be told, Ardeth, I think he felt guilty. I've been hearing that he tends to open his mouth first, and think later. Well, I've actually seen that for myself, but I didn't realize how dense he could be at times. But I do think, in his own weird way, he was trying to look out for you," Celia answered softly. She raised her hand as he started to speak, adding, "I'm not making excuses for him, he's very lucky I didn't deck him. As it is, I let him have it both barrels."  
  
At Ardeth's confused look, Celia elaborated, "I. . .oh, how do I explain this properly? Okay. I made it real clear that it was none of his business, and that the only reason I was putting up with his boorish behavior was because I realized it was caused by his concern for you." Now Ardeth's smile returned, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter. Celia added ruefully, "Besides, even though I'm not a lady, I still shouldn't be using language like that."  
  
"In that case, my friend, it will not be required for me to. . .ah. . .let him have it both barrels?" Ardeth suggested with an impish grin. Surprised, Celia laughed outright, and Ardeth continued, his smile now almost smug, "I do have a sense of humor." Celia laughed again, and the awkwardness of the last few minutes dissolved. For several minutes, they just grinned at each other like a pair of idiots.  
  
Celia finally said, "I know you have a sense of humor, Ardeth. I would not. . .enjoy my time with you, if you didn't." Was it her imagination, or was Ardeth Bey blushing? Okay, time to change the subject. She thought, then asked, looking around, "Do you have much opportunity to read?" Ardeth brightened immediately, as if she brought up one of his favorite subjects, and nodded, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm.  
  
"While patrolling Hamunaptra, I often take books with me. When I was a boy, my father insisted that I learn to read English as fluently as I read Arabic and ancient Egyptian. Since my uncle was the curator of the Cairo Museum, he had access to the library and would bring books to me every chance he got. Since watching over Hamunaptra can be. . .time consuming, I read during my watches," Ardeth explained.  
  
"Time consuming; in other words, tedious or boring," Celia observed and Ardeth gave a tiny shrug. Celia didn't pursue it, though. Instead, she asked, making herself more comfortable, "So, what kinds of books do you like to read? Fiction? Nonfiction? I imagine fiction might even be boring, after some of the things you've experienced first hand. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the realities you face."  
  
"Both, actually. When I was young, my uncle first introduced me to the works of William Shakespeare. And every time my uncle would come from Cairo, and I was away on my patrols, my sister would bring the books out to me. My sister Acacia, that is," he explained.  
  
He paused, then continued, "After my brother was murdered, and I found myself chieftain only a year after becoming a warrior, I had little time to mourn for his death, or for the injustice done to my sister." Celia noted that. He said injustice, not dishonor. However, she didn't interrupt him, and Ardeth continued, "The little succor I found was in reading. I sometimes think that Shakespeare helped to save my soul after Andreas died."  
  
Celia looked at him inquiringly, and he explained, "I was seventeen years old. . .my brother was dead, my sister was raped, and I was now the chieftain. I had seen my brother die. I had no idea where to begin. I felt totally lost, even more so because I realized that as the chieftain, it was my responsibility to take care of my people. And I was so. . .angry. I was angry with Lock-nah, with my brother, with myself. . ."  
  
He fell silent, his eyes focused on a place and time far distant. Celia didn't interrupt him, as she felt that she was hearing things that no one ever heard before. It occurred to her, too, that Ardeth still hadn't mourned for what was lost, including pieces of his own heart. After a moment, he continued, "I was in danger of losing my soul. Especially since people who never bothered with me while I was simply the younger brother of the chieftain. . .they suddenly. . .I no longer knew whom I could trust, and who sought to use me."  
  
Celia could believe that, and her heart broke for that young boy. She knew for some time that Ardeth Bey was a strong, stable man. But until now, she hadn't understood just how he came by that strength. Understanding as she did about dealing with painful memories, Celia remained silent as Ardeth sought to gather his thoughts. When he was ready, he said softly, "My uncle saw my rage and confusion, and brought more books for me to read. And in doing so, he saved my sanity."  
  
He gave a sweet smile then, unexpectedly, and moved by that smile, Celia asked softly, "Would you like me to read to you?" She didn't know what prompted her to make that offer. Just that it was the right thing to do. And she was right. That sweet smile widened, lighting up his eyes, and Celia rose to her feet, walking to the books. She smiled, murmuring under her breath, "No Hemingway. Good. I can't stand him."  
  
Louder, she continued, "Now, what would you like me to read? You have quite the interesting selection here. Shakespeare, but you told me that. . .Lew Wallace. You know, if my memory serves, he was a governor at one point. New Mexico, I think, but my history of the West is a little rusty." She eyed 'Ben-Hur' as she spoke, then she continued as her eyes fell on something familiar, "I haven't seen these since I was a small girl. I realize you used these when you were learning English, but why did you keep them?"  
  
"Because those primers *were* how I learned English, the basics of English. For that reason, they occupy a special place in my heart. We used those to teach my niece and nephew how to read and write English, and we will use them to teach my children to do the same. You are familiar, then, with the works of Shakespeare?" Ardeth inquired. Celia felt herself shiver involuntarily, though she wasn't sure of the reason. Whether it was because she was exerting herself, or because Ardeth Bey just shared a piece of himself that few saw.  
  
She couldn't have said one way or the other. Instead, she turned to face him, and answered with a wry grin, "That was required reading in my home while I was growing up. My father was a man who set great store by appearances. He didn't want us reading Shakespeare because he enjoyed the stories. . .he wanted us reading him because he thought it made us sound intelligent. That, in turn, made him look good. What's your favorite Shakespeare play?"  
  
"Your father was a foolish man, but I have come to realize that over the last few weeks. Appearances are often deceiving, and he proves it," Ardeth said bluntly. Celia realized, on some level, that she should defend her father; but she really had no desire to do so. She and Jason never mattered to him. Only his wife, and keeping up appearances mattered to him. Not his children. Ardeth added after a moment, his voice gentling, "And my favorite has always been Othello." Celia's head snapped up at that.  
  
Of all the Shakespeare plays she was forced to read, that was the one she hated most. She asked softly, "Why?" She was drawing up memories that were almost twenty years old, but she remembered clearly how that play angered her. She hated Iago, but even more, she hated Othello, for allowing himself to be manipulated. Hated them both with all the passion of her thirteen year old heart and soul.  
  
"Because Othello was a fool who betrayed himself, even as Iago betrayed him, even as Othello betrayed Desdemona. He allowed his jealousy, his fear, his. . .I believe the proper English word is 'insecurity' in this case. . .to cloud his judgment. He knew Iago's lies to be that which they were, and he believed them anyhow. It is a constant struggle, Celia, when you are in a position of authority. . .knowing whom to believe, whom to trust," Ardeth explained slowly.  
  
He paused, his eyes locking on hers, then continued, "When I read Othello so many years ago, I stopped feeling so lost. It also frightened me, because I could see the trap in which Othello was falling. I could see it, and I feared falling into that trap as well. To do such a thing would be a betrayal of everything my parents attempted to teach me, as well as a betrayal of the Med-jai people. And it would make me no better than He Who Shall Not Be Named."  
  
"Because that was the same trap he fell into, only with Pharaoh and Anck-su-namun. The same trap which Pharaoh himself fell into," Celia said softly and Ardeth inclined his head, never breaking eye contact. Celia continued, feeling her way along this lifeline to understanding Ardeth which he unexpectedly gave her, "And the fact that Othello was from this part of the world just gave you one more thing in common with him. The difference being, of course, that you were just a boy. . .and he was a man old enough to be your father. But that saved you. Because you could see that you might become like him."  
  
"You do your teachers credit," Ardeth answered simply, and Celia sensed that he wasn't talking about the teachers at her private school, or her parents for that matter. He continued, "Yes, that is it exactly. And every time I found myself losing my. . .losing track of that, I read from Othello again, and I reminded myself of what I may become. I do not claim to be better than I am, Celia. . .I only try to be better." And again, that chill swept over her, a pleasant feeling, for again, she knew he gifted her with a piece of his soul.  
  
"You're already ahead of the game, Ardeth. Not everyone can say that, and mean it," she answered him in a husky voice. She resisted the impulse to awaken his memories. He was not yet ready for that, her heart told her that if he remembered now, he would push her away. And Celia Ferguson was determined not to allow that to happen. The gods erased his memory for a reason. The time to reawaken those memories was not yet here. She added, "Is that what you would like me to read to you?"  
  
Surprisingly, he shook his head and replied, "La. Something lighter, a comedy. A Midsummer's Night Dream. Have you read that?" She shook her head. Her father only permitted her and Jason to read the tragedies. Jason. Celia forced back thoughts of her brother once more. She was not ready to deal with that yet, or the accompanying rage. Ardeth said something rude in Arabic, adding, "Then it is long past time you did. Come. Sit with me."  
  
Celia found the volume with the requested comedy, then she returned to the blanket or rug which prevented sand from finding its way into places it had no business being. She opened it and smiled, seeing the inscription on the front leaf. 'To my beloved nephew: may you find succor and comfort within these pages. You will be forever in my heart. Uncle Terrence.' She made herself comfortable, and then began to read as Ardeth relaxed against his bedding.  
  
. . .  
  
She found Uncle Terrence's inscription. Ardeth could see it in her smile. For some reason, though he had not shared that part of himself with anyone for many years, he felt it was right to do so with this woman. Her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. Not pity. And she did not condemn an anguished, desperate people for turning to the only person whom they could. She may have thought it. . .but she kept silent.  
  
It would be so easy to let go. Stop fighting himself and fall in love with her. Day by day, she grew more beautiful to him as he watched her play with her daughter, her determination to be a credit to those who taught her. He did not see her among his people, but over the last few days, many of his warriors told him that the pretty American thanked them for helping to rescue her.  
  
One young warrior said, shaking his head, "She thanks us, when O'Connell never has." The boy hadn't realized that Ardeth heard him, and the chieftain would not tell him, either. He had to decide what he would do about the growing resentment and bitterness toward O'Connell. While he rested during these last few days, Ardeth was not totally idle. He knew O'Connell was in danger of alienating the young warriors, whether he was Med-jai or not. And Ardeth had no idea what to do about that, because O'Connell was not of the tribes.  
  
When he was informed that Celia would like to thank him in person, Ardeth did something which he hadn't done in a long time. He chose to put a problem aside. Trying to figure out what to do was giving him a headache, and Celia's visit would be a welcome diversion. He was right. Ardeth found himself confiding in her, just as she often confided in him while they were in Cairo, telling her about what troubled him.  
  
And while they were not chaperoned, they also were not alone. Several times, Ardeth was amused to see one of his warriors, or one of his sisters, or his mother, pass the entrance to his tent. The likely story they would give was that they were checking on him, making sure that he wasn't tiring himself, but the more logical explanation (and likely) was that they were making sure Ardeth and Celia behaved like the adults they were assumed to be.  
  
It should have made him angry, but he wasn't angry. Or hurt. Just somewhat resigned and rather amused. Especially since several times, he actually saw disappointment in the eyes of a young warrior who would pass by the tent. He would speak with Garai later, because the only things he heard from the young warriors were complaints against O'Connell. From the disappointment in the eyes of that boy, it seemed likely there was some sort of wager among the warriors about the nature of his relationship with Celia.  
  
Eventually, he turned his attention back to his companion. For the first time in years, Ardeth could speak to another human being (outside of family) as a man, not as the chieftain of the Med-jai. That was not something he even found when he was with the O'Connells, for his knowledge was what they needed. Not the man. And the feeling was. . . liberating. While it was true that each chieftain of the Med-jai was different, Ardeth found himself acting, for lack of a better word, as a king.  
  
It was not how the Med-jai viewed it. . .Shakir Bey always called himself a captain, and his son was the first to call himself 'chieftain.' However, it was the best phrase that Westerners would understand. He was a combination of king, general and visionary. . .but for the first time in too long, Ardeth the man was allowed to emerge. For that reason alone, it would have been far too easy to fall in love with Celia. And if she were not the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, the chieftain would have thrown away his fears and admitted it.  
  
But she was that reincarnation, and she was meant for another. The reincarnation of Rameses, who swore to find his beloved again in each lifetime to come. He knew he should not spend time with her, because the more time he spent with her, the more difficult it was to fight his growing feelings for her. But along with his growing desire for her, he also found peace in her company, peace he had not felt in so long. He hated himself for his weakness, but when all was said and done, Ardeth Bey was a man, not a god.  
  
Even now as she read of Titania and Oberon, her voice lilting with suppressed laughter, Ardeth could not take his eyes from her. She was not beautiful as Evelyn was, in terms of actual features. But to him, she *was* beautiful. He found himself wanting to touch her dark hair, her lips as she smiled. And numbly, Ardeth realized it was too late. Even as he fought himself, telling himself that he knew her for only a week. . .he knew that it was far too late.  
  
She quietly snuck under his defenses and touched his heart. He fell in love with her. Yes. He was in love with her. He loved her smile, and her laughter, loved her compassion and her fire. The sight of her thrown across the back of that camel as if she was a piece of furniture enraged him. And his relief when he found her still alive, though terrified. . . He loved her.  
  
*Oh Allah, what have I done?* For even as he followed the traditions of the old ones, Ardeth grew up among Muslims, the Sufi scholars of the Med- jai, and unconsciously adopted the habit of calling upon Allah, though Ardeth knew that he did not belong to him. And none of the old gods objected for none of them claimed him as yet. None of which helped him now with this terrible mess he made. What had he done?  
  
Celia stopped reading and looked at him worriedly. She looked so worried about him. Ardeth tried to smile at her, tried to encourage her to keep reading. But his smile did not reassure her, and she asked softly, "What is it, Ardeth? You look so sad."  
  
She damned them both then. She reached out and touched his face gently, the barest of touches. The pads of her fingers barely grazed his skin. . .but Ardeth inhaled sharply. He should ask her to go. Tell her that their conversation tired him more than he realized, and he needed to sleep. Yes. That was what he should do. That was what he would do, what must be done, if he wanted to save them both.  
  
But he didn't. Even as he opened his mouth, he was stunned to hear himself whisper, "May I kiss you, Celia?" Ardeth blinked. Where did that come from? That wasn't what he wanted to ask! That would further damn him, asking to kiss this woman who could not belong to him. But it was too late to take the words back. Especially when she smiled at him, her dark eyes filled with. . .oh, he was lost!  
  
"I would like that," she replied softly. Ardeth's body decided to copy his recalcitrant mouth by leaning forward, instead of doing the honorable thing and ending this before he destroyed himself. His hand slid around the back of her head, gently cradling her skull, then his lips brushed against hers. It was a small kiss, but it served to send his world reeling. When things finally righted. . .he was no longer in his tent.  
  
And while Celia was still in front of him, she was no longer Celia. **Black kohl lined her eyes in the ancient Egyptian way, and her hair was darker. A wig. Of course. She wore a white tunic-dress that was belted at the waist, and she smiled at him tenderly. In ancient Egyptian, she whispered, "You work too hard, my love. Rest a bit." Ardeth, who was no longer Ardeth, stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her.  
  
"You are too good to me, sweet Ardath. I know not what I would do, if I had not you at my side," he sighed as her arms wrapped around his waist. He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He truly was exhausted, an exhaustion that only hit in the last few moments, once it was not necessary to pretend. And with his treasured concubine, it was never necessary to pretend, for she loved the man, not the prince.**  
  
Ardeth came back to himself with a gasp. Celia looked at him, worried. Had he kissed her? Or was that just a dream? Celia whispered, "Ardeth? Are you all right? I didn't. . .I mean, did I. . .I mean. . .I offended you when I kissed you back, didn't I?" She sounded very young and very afraid right then, and Ardeth immediately snapped out of his disorientation, remembering that Celia had her own insecurities.  
  
"La. . .no, you did not. Forgive me, please. Something very strange happened to me. I know not what it was," Ardeth answered, still somewhat breathless. What was happening to him? Was this the gods' way of telling him that he was not wrong to kiss Celia? His mind spun with the implications. He heard himself, that other self, call Celia 'my sweet Ardath.' It was the first time he ever had a flash of his previous life, and it shook him.  
  
In his experience, people usually began remembering their past lives in their dreams. Ardeth hadn't dreamed in so long. . .and if he did dream, he didn't remember about what he dreamed. And in the end, it was no longer necessary. . .for as he struggled to understand what just happened to him, Garai burst into his tent. Ardeth was on his feet immediately, Celia bracing him with her arms around his waist.  
  
The older warrior gasped, "My apologies, Ardeth, but the Geban contingent just returned. The five are all dead. Commander Alekos is also dead, along with all but one of his group. Khaldun has risen. My lady Celia, I apologize, but your brother joined with Khaldun. I am sorry." Ardeth numbly heard Celia's gasp and put his arm around her. . .but his mind was racing. He needed more information, and Ardeth the man once more faded into the background.  
  
. . .  
  
*I will kill him, I will kill him, I swear I will kill him! He has no right kissing her! Absolutely none! And how could she let him kiss her, when she knows that she was Ardath, that she belongs to Rameses?* Anck cried out in rage. Mathayus half-expected her to throw herself down in a temper tantrum, banging her fists and feet on the ground as if she was a two year old. And he would have told her, once and for all, that Ardeth *was* the reincarnation of Rameses. However, at that moment in time, he had other concerns.  
  
So, instead of strangling her with her own hair (which he was sorely tempted to do), Mathayus focused instead on the meeting between the surviving Med-jai of the Geban contingent and his chieftain, once Celia was escorted back to her tent. Mathayus learned during the fight with Khaldun that the boy's name was 'Nicodemus.' Like most others in the Geban tribe, he was of Greek descent. He was eighteen years old, and the battle of Ahm Shere was the first time he saw combat on such a scale.  
  
He was one of the boys standing at his chieftain's side, as the second wave of Anubis Warriors rose over the sand dunes toward the Med-jai. Nicodemus saw the fear in the eyes of his chieftain, fear which gave way to resolve. And Nicodemus knew, just as many other young Med-jai warriors did, that he would follow Ardeth Bey anywhere. . .to the very gate of the Underworld, and beyond. From Ardeth Bey, he could accept the lesson taught since childhood. . .fear did not make a man a coward. Absence of fear made a man a fool.  
  
So, when Alekos asked for volunteers to accompany him to Hamunaptra, there was no hesitation on the part of Nicodemus. The American who participated in the kidnapping of his own sister headed for Hamunaptra, for reasons none knew, but Alekos feared that Khaldun sought a human host. They knew Khaldun was behind the attack in the bazaar, but what wasn't clear was why he sought the girl.  
  
No matter. Five Med-jai were missing in action. . .they should have returned the same night as the raid to rescue the girl. They had not. While Nicodemus was still learning to trust his instincts as a warrior, those instincts now told him that his brother Med-jai were dead. If this was so, he wanted to know, and he wanted to know how they died, who killed them. So he told his chieftain as he struggled to catch his breath.  
  
He got what he wanted. When they reached Hamunaptra, it was to find the five men dead. But they weren't just dead; they all were tortured to death, their faces set in death masks of rage and defiance. But that defiance gave Nicodemus hope, for he knew they died loyal to their chieftain. That while he might have broken the bodies of his brothers, Khaldun never broke them, and that gave Nicodemus hope that he could be that brave.  
  
Even as his heart acknowledged that hope, his soul burned with fury at what was done to his brother warriors. . .fury which coalesced into a desire for revenge. But still, Nicodemus remembered the sight of his chieftain, battling his own fear to lead the Med-jai. He drew strength from that image, for while he was young, Nicodemus was no fool. To blindly strike out, without gathering all the intelligence about their enemy, would be foolish.  
  
Khaldun chose that moment to make himself known to Commander Alekos and the three men who accompanied him. His eyes were glowing red, which was a description of Set or Seth: red hair and red (or blue) eyes. But what startled Nicodemus as he and the other Med-jai fanned out around Khaldun was the flash of hazel in those red eyes, as if Jason Ferguson was fighting for control of his body.  
  
Khaldun greeted Alekos in ancient Egyptian, observing that he did not see the soul of his *beloved* cousin Rameses among them. Nicodemus winced unconsciously at the contempt as he spoke of his cousin, then he wondered why. Why would he look for the spirit of his cousin among the Med-jai? Unless Rameses was reborn as a Med-jai? But if that was so, who would it be? Nicodemus had no further time to think on this, for Khaldun began his attack. Mathayus lowered his eyes as the boy described the manner of each death.  
  
He wanted to stand and fight. He wanted to stop what was being done to his brothers in arms, his friends since childhood. But Alekos grabbed him as he went to their aid, hissing, "LA! You must not engage him. One of us must live, young Nicodemus, and warn Ardeth. That one must be you. You will live, you will warn our chieftain." The boy struggled in the hands of his commander, but Alekos shook him hard and hissed, "Live today, fight tomorrow! And now, it is your duty to live for the Med-jai!"  
  
With that, he pushed Nicodemus to the side and engaged Khaldun himself. Much to the boy's shame, he ran, not pausing long enough to watch the death of his commander. To commit to memory, as he did with the deaths of the other men. But he heard Alekos exclaim as he died, defiant even in death. Screaming in ancient Egyptian, "I reject you, Khaldun! I reject you!"  
  
Nicodemus rode from Hamunaptra as fast as he could, tears of rage and frustration pouring down his face. But Khaldun had not made it easy for him, shifting the sand as the Creature had before his rising seven years earlier. Nicodemus, like all Med-jai, was an excellent horseman, but the boy found it difficult to keep his seat and to calm his frightened horse. And just as he cleared the edge of the cursed city, an enraged howl exploded through the air.  
  
Inside his chieftain's tent, Nicodemus took several shuddering breaths. Ardeth knelt beside the boy, gently putting his hand on the young Greco-Egyptian's shoulder. He said once Nicodemus was looking at him, "You did the only thing you could, Nicodemus. The right thing. There is no shame in following your Commander's orders." The boy nodded slowly, as if trying to accept that, and Ardeth continued, "You mentioned that it seemed that Jason Ferguson was fighting Khaldun's control."  
  
"Aywa. Several times, his eyes turned from red to hazel again. And once Khaldun said something about how he hated his form, for the way Jason Ferguson kept whimpering and begging his sister's forgiveness, but Jason came to him, offering himself in his sister's place," Nicodemus answered. Mathayus watched as Ardeth stiffened at this, his mind racing at what he was told. The Scorpion King had no doubt whatsoever that the chieftain was piecing together the sections of the puzzle.  
  
And then, the attention of both Mathayus and Ardeth was brought back to Nicodemus, who was not finished speaking. The boy shook his head, saying, "I just do not know who this reincarnation of Rameses is. He spoke as though it was a Med-jai, but who might that be?" Mathayus looked at Ardeth, who paled. He was remembering the kiss he shared with Celia, and the flash of insight he received of his previous life. He was finally on the verge of remembering. And once he remembered, there would be no going back.  
  
"I believe I may know. Thank you for your report, Nicodemus, you may return to your tent," Ardeth said very softly. The boy nodded and rose slowly to his feet, pain written in every line of his face. Once he and Garai were alone in the tent, Ardeth continued, "I would like you to tell Celia that in the end, her brother regretted his actions. I know not if he can be saved, but perhaps that will give her some measure of comfort."  
  
Garai nodded and Ardeth continued heavily, "You know. You know who among the Med-jai carries the spirit of Rameses, who is his reincarnation." Garai again nodded, his face solemn as he beheld the naked pain of his chieftain. Mathayus hurt for him as well. In just one day, he finally acknowledged his love for Celia Ferguson and remembered his previous identity. Ardeth whispered, "What. . .we must speak with the elders, and the rest of the commanders. A plan must be formulated, and we must learn how to stop Khaldun."  
  
He looked up, his dark eyes haunted with pain and grief, "This is my responsibility. Rameses cursed Khaldun three thousand years ago, and now I must pay the price. For I remember, Garai. When I. . .I remembered earlier. I remembered. . .I saw Celia as she was then. But I did not put the pieces together until now. Rameses, reborn as a Med-jai. I understand now. I understand why I could not remember my previous life."  
  
For the first time since focusing on the unfolding drama in Ardeth Bey's tent, Mathayus managed to pry his eyes from them, to look at Anck-su- namun. The concubine was staring at Ardeth with a stricken expression. She was shaking her head, mouthing 'no' over and over again. At last, she looked up at Mathayus, tears shining in her eyes as she whispered, *It cannot be true! Rameses. . .he is Rameses reborn?*  
  
Mathayus inclined his head, grimly pleased, and replied, *Yes. He is. That is why Celia allowed him to kiss her. She knows whom he was. . .she has known since the night of her abduction. Initially, the gods punished Rameses for his cruelty by having him reincarnated as the lowliest peasant, but they realized that there was good remaining within him. He simply needed to be stronger. . .and over three thousand years, that strength was built up, through each life time. But he would not forgive himself. . .each time he received his memories of that lifetime, he would push away the reincarnation of Ardath.*  
  
*And that is why his memories were wiped clean in this life. By the time he remembered whom he was, he was already in love with her again. And she would not allow him to push her away any longer. Oh gods forgive me for my blindness. . .Ardeth Bey is the reincarnation of the man my forever friend loved,* Anck lamented. It took her long enough, but now she understood. Now it was time for the next phase to go into effect.  
  
. . .  
  
Her head did not want to stop spinning. Ardeth Bey. . .a Med-jai. . .was the reincarnation of Rameses. And not just any Med-jai, no, he was the Med-jai chieftain who bore her best friend's name! Mathayus told her that over and over, to look beyond the tattoos, to the man behind them, to the real man. Why had she never listened?  
  
Why did she assume Celia would betray that love? **Because, foolish girl,* an annoying voice whispered, **you did that. Why wouldn't she? Why wouldn't she betray the man she loved, the man who loved her? Why do you always assume that Ardath is any better than you? She certainly never claimed to be. . .you were constantly putting her on a pedestal, because she was more sensible than you, and kinder, yes. But she was not perfect.**  
  
**But she WAS better! She was kinder and stronger, smarter and wiser. That is why she would not betray Rameses, because she was always stronger than I! Imhotep was wrong! I was never the strong one, that was always Ardath! And now, because of my stupidity. . .** Anck began. She stopped, trying to think that through. After a moment, she turned to Mathayus, who was watching her in silence.  
  
*What have I done?* she asked without preamble. *What have I done, in denying whom Ardeth is? Have I caused harm to Celia or her child?* Mathayus looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. Anck relaxed. She was still struggling with what she just saw and heard. . .at least that was one thing she didn't have to fear. Hoping she could come to terms with this revelation, she now asked, *What comes now?*  
  
*Now we wait, to see what happens in the confrontation between Khaldun and Ardeth. There will be one, very soon. Ardeth must speak with the elders, which is where he is going now,* Mathayus answered. She noticed this, and noticed that he was still wobbly on his feet. She knew him to be Rameses reborn, but could not allow her heart to fully soften toward him. At the same time, Garai was heading toward Aleta's tent. . .presumably to tell Celia about Jason.  
  
Waiting. That was the one thing she could never do well. Looking back over her life, there were so many things she should have done differently. Why did she stay with Pharaoh's body when the Med-jai burst in? Why hadn't she simply gone with him that night? Yes, the royal brat Nefertiri raised the alarm, but they could have still escaped together. Or at the very least, they could have tried.  
  
*You denigrate Nefertiri for warning the Med-jai, Anck-su-namun,* Mathayus said unexpectedly, *but what would you have her do? She saw you cheating on her father. She saw you murder her father, whom she loved. Think about that, Anck-su-namun.* Mathayus circled around her, his dark eyes flashing as he continued, *Remember how you felt when you watched Ardath lose her child. . .when she lost her life.*  
  
No. She did not want to think about that, she did not want to see things from Nefertiri's perspective. But it seemed with the revelation about Rameses, her mind was not obeying her at the moment. The old rage surged within her, and Mathayus whispered, *That was how she felt, Anck-su- namun, when she saw Seti die. Her father, whom she loved and who loved her. Murdered by two people whom he trusted.*  
  
*ENOUGH!* she cried out, *what more do you want from me? I cannot hate that Med-jai for he carries the spirit of my sister's beloved, must you take everything from me? What must I give?* Both Mathayus and the voice were silent, and that was more than she could take.  
  
*I betrayed the man I loved, I. . .AGH!! I am so sick of the demands you make on me! I am sick of never being good enough, I am. . .oh gods, forgive me,* Anck moaned, sinking to her knees. She wasn't good enough. She was never good enough. She accused Seti of not loving her, but did she ever give him any idea of whom the true Anck-su-namun was? No. Ardath never held anything back from Rameses, and he gave all of himself in return.  
  
She hated Seti because he never gave to her, but had she ever given to him? Yes, she gave her body, but to Anck-su-namun, that was easy. She did that since she was very young. Did she ever truly give Seti a chance? Was she his possession because he sought to own her, or because. . .because she would only allow him to possess her? Oh gods, what was happening to her? She never. . .never did this before!  
  
*Not since Ardath died. . .not since your link to decency was torn from your life. When she was murdered, you no longer had that tie to decency and kindness. Seti tried to win your love, but you pushed him away. He was a lonely old man, and so he took what he could have. You were too self-centered to think of anyone else but yourself,* came that hideous little voice in the back of her mind. Anck tried to shut it out, but the voice would not be silenced.  
  
*NO! Enough of this! You must take responsibility, Anck! Or there will never be redemption! You keep making the same mistakes over and over again. As Anck-su-namun, as Meela. . .it does not matter what your name is. You have hurt people! Pharaoh gave you a chance to be someone, and you threw it away! You could have loved him, if you allowed yourself to do so. You could have fulfilled your promise to Ardath, and look after Rameses, but you did not. Take responsibility for what you have done wrong, or we will be stuck eternally in this cycle!* that voice demanded.  
  
*Listen to that voice, Anck,* Mathayus advised, a disembodied voice over her head, *it will lead you to redemption. . .and freedom, as it led me to mine. Are you not tired of this constant battle, of making yourself into a victim? You have spoken often of Ardath's strength, and of that you have spoken truly. But have you ever wondered, for even a moment, from whence her strength came?*  
  
Yes, she did, every day of her life. Mathayus continued, his voice curiously gentle, *It came from never blaming others for something that was not their responsibility. It came from not carrying responsibility that did not belong to her. She shouldered the burdens that were necessary. In order for you to be free, dear child. . .first you must know forgiveness. One person must forgive you.* Anck glared at him.  
  
*You sound like those followers of Christ that I briefly glimpsed in Meela's mind,* she said petulantly. And it wasn't like she really wanted to remember finding herself in an alien body, with the body's own soul inhabiting Meela at the same time. Mathayus actually laughed, laughed at *her* as if she was joking, and Anck glared at him. Forgiveness was not something which Anck understood (*except when it came to Ardath,* that annoying voice reminded her, *Ardath and Imhotep. Why should you not beg forgiveness of the two people whom you loved and whom you betrayed?*)  
  
*Do you truly believe, Anck-su-namun,* he asked almost mockingly, *that because their beliefs are not ours, that they are totally worthless?* That was exactly what Anck believed. Mathayus shook his head and sighed, *You still have so much to learn, child.* The concubine started to protest, but Mathayus silenced her with a wave of his hand, saying *silence. It is time you learned more, Anck-su-namun, about the modern day Med-jai.*  
  
. . .  
  
By all rights, Ardeth shouldn't have been up. Garai knew that. He also knew that his leader had no choice. . .he had to tell the Council of Elders about what young Nicodemus learned while at Hamunaptra. That was what Ardeth was doing now, while Garai fulfilled Ardeth's request to look out for Celia. But right now, she was sleeping in Aleta's tent with her daughter cradled against her side once more.  
  
The American woman was exhausted, after what happened between herself and Ardeth. At her request, Garai found Miranda, who was playing with Darius and Damara and the other Med-jai children. When he told her that her mother was back in Aleta's tent, she wanted to see her, because she saw Ardeth. By the time they returned, Celia was sound asleep, curled on her side. Miranda crawled onto the pallet bearing her mother, and curled up beside her. She was asleep soon after, huddled against her mother's body.  
  
That left Garai to wonder about what was going on in Council right now. Many years earlier. . .around fifty years after the beginning of their exile. . .the Med-jai recognized that having only male elders was highly impractical. As the twin children of Ardeth and Athena Bey put it, there were two impracticalities to such a system, which was introduced by Athena's Greek relations. . .or rather suggested.  
  
First and foremost, the women and girls were just as affected by their decisions as the men and boys were. Secondly, there would be times when a council was needed while the men were away. Should the women wait to make a life-or-death situation until they returned? That would truly be foolish. Further, the women of their tribe were used to having a say in their lives. In Egypt, women enjoyed the same rights and privileges as the men of their social standing.  
  
Thus, after only a short time of being denied that to which they were accustomed, women once more sat on the council as well as men. As the wife of the chieftain, Altair Bey sat on the Council, and since Ardeth was unmarried, she maintained that position. Her seat was not gained automatically. . .especially since she was an outsider, but as the years passed and she proved herself to be wise and compassionate, she was granted a seat. Excellent timing, since her husband died only months later.  
  
In the years before the Creature's first Rising, Garai knew Altair would often abstain from votes, to protect her son from charges of nepotism. He had to win over the council on the strength of his own arguments, not on his blood ties to Altair. But while she would not always vote for whatever her son believed was necessary, nor would she vote against him. If Ardeth believed in it strongly, and convinced his mother of the importance of an issue, Altair would work behind the scenes to get it done. Many times, in the days after Anatol and Aric rode to Hamunaptra after Ardeth, Altair rued not supporting her son more.  
  
Especially after Garai revealed his dream to them, about Andreas. But Altair did what she believed right, what she believed would protect her son and her people at the same time. No one could possibly ask more from her than that. And now, a new issue was put before them. The questions posed by Khaldun's return to the flesh. He was free, he had a new vessel. And he wanted revenge.  
  
What none of them knew was, if Khaldun now had a body, why had he not left Hamunaptra? Perhaps he was not free, after all. Did the blood of Jason Ferguson only free his spirit, and give him a host body? There was something here that made no sense, and Garai could not put his finger on it. Nor was there anything he could do about it. . .nothing Ardeth could do, aside from tell the Council what he learned.  
  
Exasperated by his inability to do anything to help his chieftain, Garai turned his attention to Celia. Miranda was still asleep. . .while her mother was in Ardeth's tent, Miranda was spending time with the O'Connells and getting to know the children. Darius and Damara were fascinated by the little American girl, and she was just as fascinated by them. According to a laughing Aleta, Miranda was almost disappointed to discover that neither Darius nor Damara wore the same tattoos as their uncles.  
  
There was a soft sound from the pallet and Garai looked over as Celia began to stir. She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily. The half-mast hazel eyes gave him a once over, as if trying to remember what he was doing here, then recognition dawned a moment later. . .along with pain. Still, she gave him an equally sleepy smile and whispered, "This must be boring for you." Garai returned the smile, and Celia continued, "Ardeth. . .is he all right?" Garai hid a smile. He should have known that her first question would be for the well-being of his chieftain.  
  
Ardeth received a series of nasty shocks, although they started out rather pleasantly. Garai learned that Ardeth kissed Celia after she gave her permission. . .the barest graze of his lips against hers. It was that light caress which triggered his memories of being Rameses. . .but it was the story told by Nicodemus, about Khaldun's words, which provided the rest of the information.  
  
"He is well. . .speaking with the Elders at the moment. I believe his niece and nephew are quite impressed with your daughter. Or rather, with her ability to say so much without taking a breath. They're also impressed with her habit of calling Ardeth 'pretty,' without embarrassing him," Garai answered ruefully. Celia grinned impishly, looking quite young herself, and Garai continued, "I am glad you are not offended that we. . .checked on you."  
  
"Of course I'm not. . .Ardeth is your chieftain, and one thing I've realized about the Med-jai over the last few days. You are very protective of him. Based on what I've heard from the young warriors who have come to Aleta's tent. . .she has acted as a translator for them. . .and from what I've been able to gather from them, Ardeth is greatly loved. They say that while the Creature has risen twice, everyone knew it was simply a matter of time," Celia replied.  
  
Garai knew this. Nothing could stay hidden forever. And while he would never say this out loud, he had the strangest sense that Imhotep would have to rise one final time. And everything which was wrong in the last three thousand years would be put right, at last. It would have to be, to defeat Khaldun. Garai had his memories of Sennefer, and knew that the circle was almost complete.  
  
Imhotep, Rameses, Terumun, Nassor. The circle that killed and then bound Khaldun thirty centuries earlier. Imhotep, Ardeth Bey, Rick O'Connell, Jonathan Carnahan. In Ardath's name, was how it began. Her reincarnation would play a role in how it all ended. Garai did not know what that ending would be. He saw things, such as what would have become of the Med-jai, had Andreas lived. But he could not see the future. Celia asked softly, "Garai, what is it?" The Med-jai looked into the eyes of the young American woman. Once, she was Lady Ardath, queen of Rameses' heart. Queen of Sennefer's heart, if the truth were known.  
  
She wasn't Lady Ardath any more. But Celia Ferguson would still play a role in the final defeat of Khaldun. Ferguson. Garai said softly, "There is something you should know about your brother. He. . .it seems likely that he is fighting Khaldun's control of his body. The young man who returned. . .several times, he saw Khaldun's red eyes turn hazel. And Khaldun said that Jason was fighting him. There may be hope yet for him, m'lady."  
  
Celia sat up, careful not to disturb her sleeping daughter. She ran a gentle hand over the dark hair, her eyes flickering as she said softly, "But Ardeth may not have a choice, when it comes time to do what must be done." It was an oblique statement, but Garai understood exactly what she meant. She continued after a moment, "He betrayed me, Garai. He made a deal with those monsters. And I'm not sure I can forgive him for that. . .I don't know if I'll have the chance, even." It took Garai a moment to realize that she was speaking of Jason, not Ardeth.  
  
Once he did, he replied, "When the time comes, my queen, you will know. You will find that strength." Movement caught his attention and he turned his head toward the motion. The Council of the Elders was over. Ardeth didn't look particularly happy, but his face wasn't as stormy as he had seen it. Which meant that the Council was as confused as Ardeth himself about what happened.  
  
Celia saw it as well, and asked slowly, "What happens now?" Miranda shifted slightly in her sleep, and Celia bent her head to kiss her daughter's hair, soothing the child. Her eyes shifted back to Garai, awaiting his answer. The Med-jai realized for the first time that Celia didn't correct him when he called her 'my lady' or 'my queen.' Then he wondered if she even noticed. A half second after that, he realized why she hadn't picked up on that. . .because he spoke those endearments in Arabic.  
  
"You will leave for Cairo, some time during the next few days, with the O'Connells. Ardeth wishes you to be safe. . .and while there will be no safe place if Khaldun is not contained, you will be safe for a time," Garai answered. Again, Celia looked out the entrance of the tent, and the old Med-jai added, "There is a place he goes, when he is troubled. A cliff overlooking the accursed city. Go to him. I will stay with little Miranda."  
  
She wanted to go to Ardeth. He could see it in her eyes. A sleepy voice said, "Ardeth needs you, Mommy. He's sad. Isn't Ardeth sad, Garai?" Miranda turned her head and looked up at her mother. Garai had been one of many Med-jai warriors who had fallen under the spell of this little girl during the last few days. The Med-jai loved children. . .their own or others. Many times in the past, when forced to kill seekers of Hamunaptra, the children of those seekers were absorbed into the Med-jai. Whatever else the Med-jai were, they did not kill children, that most precious of all gifts in this life.  
  
"Yes. Celia, I know Ardeth kissed you. If he needs anyone right now, it is you. Not his sisters. Not his mother. Not his warriors. You. I swear to you, on the love Sennefer had for Lady Ardath, that I will look after your daughter. If you will look after my chieftain," Garai said softly. Several emotions crossed over her face. . .guilt, embarrassment. And then finally resolve.  
  
But before she could speak, Miranda blurted out, "Kissed? EW!!!!!!!!" Celia looked down at her daughter, her eyes twinkling with laughter. Then Miranda tilted her head to one side and added more seriously, "But it was Ardeth, so I guess that it makes it okay. It tickles when he kisses me. Does it tickle when he kisses you, Mommy?" Celia's face turned almost scarlet with embarrassment.  
  
Garai held his arms out to Miranda, and the little girl jumped into his hands happily. Celia said, "In that case, Garai, I will take my leave of you. Miranda Christabel, behave." This was said with a 'mother' look that Altair always wore when admonishing her children, and a look which meant business. Miranda responded with an innocent smile, and Celia leaned forward to kiss her daughter, adding softly, "I'll do what I can."  
  
She left the tent, still moving slowly. Garai folded his arms around the little girl and murmured in Arabic, "And that is all I ask of you, my queen, all any of us may ask." He looked down at Miranda and asked, switching to English, "Would you like to visit your Aunt Evy?" Miranda looked up at him, thinking about that very seriously, then nodded. Garai somersaulted her in midair, drawing squeals of delight, then placed her on his shoulders, saying, "Then to the O'Connell tent we shall go!" 


	15. Childhood Memories

Part Fourteen  
  
They were returning to Cairo. It was at Ardeth's request, but Evy didn't like it. Ardeth already lost several of his men, and there was no reason to believe he wouldn't die himself in a confrontation with Khaldun. No reason except one. Khaldun would realize that he was Rameses reborn, and he would want to torture Rameses. Would want to torture Ardeth. And with a sick feeling, Evy realized that there was nothing she could do.  
  
Nothing, except do what Ardeth asked of her, and return to Cairo with Celia and Miranda. He didn't think Khaldun realized yet that Celia was Ardath's reincarnation, though the odds were good that the kidnappers sensed something about her. Otherwise, why would they have taken her in the first place? She didn't know. But she agreed with Ardeth that they had to get Celia and Miranda away from Hamunaptra.  
  
As Garai carried Miranda into the tent, Evy looked up from her packing. They would leave tomorrow for Cairo. Ardeth was sending Kaphiri and Hanif with them, and possibly a young man from the Geban tribe, Nicodemus. Those men would be their honor guard, their protectors. Nicodemus already faced the horrors inside Hamunaptra. And from what Evy heard, Ardeth would go back into Hamunaptra, the place where he once almost died.  
  
"Hi, Aunt Evy. Mommy's gone to talk to Ardeth, and try to make him feel better. Did you know that Ardeth kissed her?" Miranda asked. Evy felt her jaw become unhinged. Ardeth kissed Celia?? Did she hear that right? Ardeth kissed Celia? She wasn't sure why she was so surprised. She kissed Rick only days after meeting him. At least, she thought she kissed him, though her memories of what happened that night were a little on the sketchy side.  
  
Garai intoned, his eyes dancing with mischief, "My chieftain can surprise even us from time to time." Evy blinked, worked her jaw, but managed to close her mouth before she allowed too many more flies inside. It wasn't that hard, really. Garai's impish remark startled her enough to loosen her jaw further. The Med-jai added after a moment, more seriously, "The kiss he bestowed upon Celia Ferguson served to unlock his memories."  
  
Unlock. . .oh dear. Evy asked softly, "Is he all right?" Garai sighed deeply, but didn't answer. That was answer enough. She asked next, "Did you send Celia to him?" She wasn't questioning his judgment or his actions, merely asking a question. Garai nodded, and for the first time, Evy suspected that she would find memories of Sennefer doing the exact same thing three thousand years earlier stored among her memories of being Nefertiri.  
  
"Yes. He needs her. Mrs. O'Connell. . .Nefertiri. . .Ardeth Bey has realized how he truly feels about Celia Ferguson," Garai said simply. It took Evy a few minutes to fully grasp the importance of that statement, then she felt her jaw become unhinged once more. Oh. . .dear. Garai inclined his head, a gesture which reminded her so much of Ardeth, it made her heart hurt, and the Med-jai continued, "He needs her now. Because when you leave tomorrow, he will also leave, for Hamunaptra."  
  
"And since Khaldun is in Jason's body, Ardeth may have to take Jason's life, in order to stop Khaldun. He's looking for redemption, absolution, before he even does it, and he won't admit it, even to himself," Evy whispered. For the first time, the enormity of her friend's task as the Med-jai chieftain fully hit home. How many times had Ardeth faced such a terrible choice? No, he was never forced to kill the brother of the woman whom he loved. . .  
  
But oh! What a choice to make! She and Rick went through some terrible things in the past, and it served to cement the bond created at Hamunaptra, but Ardeth faced worse problems. Garai continued, "We have been very fortunate with our chieftain, Nefertiri. Even as a boy, he made the difficult decisions and lived with their consequences. Even when it almost cost him his own life." Evy looked at him suddenly, but the man's face was a closed-off mask. And in the end, it didn't really matter. There was only one thing that mattered to her.  
  
"Is there anything I can do to help? Before we leave for Cairo tomorrow? Anything I can do to help Ardeth, or anyone else?" she asked. The Med-jai looked down at his feet, studying the toes of his riding boots with great interest, and Evy continued, "I've discovered that many of the Med-jai resent us, for consistently putting the lives of your warriors and your chieftain in danger. Is there anything I can do, to ease that? Before we go?"  
  
"There is nothing you can do, Nefertiri. Among the warriors, there is still some lingering resentment toward you, for awakening the Creature the first time. But it is not that which annoys the warriors. It is your husband," Garai answered. Evy sighed. Yes, she thought it was something like that. Garai continued after a moment, "You must understand, Nefertiri. Many of our warriors aided you, not because you requested it, but because our chieftain did. And they are troubled by your husband's lack of respect for him."  
  
"I know that's how it looks, Garai, but you're wrong. Rick does respect Ardeth, and he *does* appreciate him. We all do. It's just that Rick is overprotective of me, and he sometimes forgets that Ardeth isn't the enemy. He needs someone to lash out at, and Ardeth happens to be the handiest person available," Evy explained softly, resting her hand lightly on Miranda's dark head. She and Rick had many an argument about that.  
  
"It is long past time for your husband to mature into an adult. His concern for you and your son is admirable, but he has luxuries that Ardeth lacks. Your husband may make you and your son his first priority. Ardeth cannot put Celia or her daughter first. He must put the Med-jai people first," Garai answered grimly. Evy sighed. He was right. She knew he was right. But she knew Rick, and while he was starting to think past himself, and his knee-jerk reactions where Ardeth was concerned. . .  
  
She feared it would take actually losing their friend for Rick to finally understand Ardeth Bey's importance in their lives. How much they needed him, and not just for his knowledge or his strength. But because he was their friend, part of their family, and Evy loved him. It wasn't something she wanted to think about, losing Ardeth. But she honestly didn't see what else would break through to Rick.  
  
. . .  
  
He stood with his back to her, a solitary figure in black, standing atop the cliff overlooking the cursed city of Hamunaptra. Celia had no trouble finding him. . .but when a young Med-jai warrior offered his assistance, she took him up on that offer. Her legs were still wobbly, and she didn't want to collapse at Ardeth's feet. She wasn't even sure why the young man made the offer, but she wasn't about to look a gift Med-jai in the mouth.  
  
As he left, the young man added something in Arabic, bowing deeply to her. She tried to memorize what he said, so she could ask Ardeth. Celia went the rest of the way alone. As she reached Ardeth, she saw Hamunaptra for the first time. From Evy, she learned that it sank into the ground seven years earlier. And yet, there it was. Ardeth said quietly, "We think that when the Creature was removed from his grave most recently, Khaldun was awakened and found a way to manipulate the lever which would return Hamunaptra to the world."  
  
"That's where Jason was taking me?" Celia asked softly and Ardeth nodded slowly, releasing a pent-up breath Celia hadn't realized he was holding. She looked at him, saw the turmoil and fear in his dark eyes. She asked, "You remember, don't you? You remember what happened there, and how everything started?" Ardeth averted his face, but Celia's concentration was no longer on the weakness in her legs. Rather, it was taking care of this man.  
  
"Oh no. No, no, no. Don't you look away from me, Ardeth Bey! You are not responsible for the mistakes made by Rameses. He lived three thousand years ago, and he wasn't as strong as you are. You have his spirit, his memories, but you are not Rameses. Any more than I'm Lady Ardath, though Garai seems to have a hard time remembering that," Celia said. She stepped closer, putting her hands on his arms.  
  
Ardeth allowed himself the tiniest of smiles, and said, "That is to be expected. Sennefer loved Lady Ardath, as much as Rameses himself did, though it was the love of a father for his daughter. It sometimes seems that in each lifetime, we are destined to have the same relationships with these people. There is no rule which says so, but it happens anyhow." He was still looking out toward Hamunaptra.  
  
"I know. And sometimes, things get better. Witness my own relationship with Evy. Nefertiri would never allow herself to get too close to Lady Ardath. And I never had an opportunity to know Meela. I. . .when I was unconscious on the barge, Ardeth, I had dreams. In one of my dreams, I was told that Meela dreamed of Lady Ardath. Hafez and Lock-nah told her that I was dead, that the O'Connells left me to die in Hamunaptra seven years ago," Celia replied. Ardeth turned his face back to hers, his eyes registering shock.  
  
But he didn't speak, and Celia continued, "Things change, Ardeth. And even if I hadn't known that you were the reincarnation of Rameses earlier, I would have allowed you to kiss me. I've actually wanted to kiss you many times. I just didn't have the courage to even ask." Now he smiled, and Celia added, "Talk to me, Ardeth. Tell me what worries you, aside from the first memories you have of Rameses."  
  
"I am not certain where I should begin, Celia," Ardeth admitted in a halting voice. Celia didn't speak, and after a moment, he continued, "I am afraid for you. Khaldun has attempted to harm you once already, and I still know not why. If he did not know that I am the reincarnation of Rameses, would he know that you are the reincarnation of my ancestress? Or did he seek you for another reason? I assumed he did know, but now. . ."  
  
Honestly, Celia never thought about that. She had other things on her mind. She was still avoiding the issue of Jason, despite what Garai told her earlier. Ardeth went on, "And. . .I may. . .your brother. . ." He seemed to have a hard time, saying what needed to be said, and Celia's heart went out to him. How often did he have to face someone with a familial tie to one whom Ardeth had to kill?  
  
A few minutes earlier, Garai told her that when the time was right, she would find the strength she needed. That remained to be seen, but at the moment, she did have words that might help Ardeth. Celia answered, "You will do what you must, Ardeth. Just please be careful. I finally found you again, after three thousand years. I'm not ready to lose you." He looked at her, then. Not at the city, not at the sand, not in her general direction, but at her. She hadn't planned to say that, actually. She smiled at him ruefully and said, "Didn't mean to say that, just sort of slipped out. Nothing is going as I intended, Ardeth."  
  
Now he favored her with a half-smile, asking exactly what she intended, and Celia explained, "I was gonna come up here, and listen while you told me what was bothering you. I didn't plan on saying anything at all. Just stand at your side, and simply. . .be there." She blushed, realizing how badly she was saying things. But Ardeth's smile widened into a genuine expression of amusement, so Celia figured she hadn't done too badly.  
  
"We still might stand side by side in mutual silence," he suggested with an impish grin and a lift of his dark brows. Celia threw back her head and laughed, almost sending herself rolling down the sand at the same time. Ardeth caught her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her waist at the same time, stabilizing her. But it also served to pull their bodies together, and Celia found herself looking directly into Ardeth's eyes as he looked down at her.  
  
"I think. .." she whispered, then almost forgot what she meant to say. His eyes were mesmerizing. Celia swallowed hard, then tried again, whispering, "I think it may be too late for us to take such a path." He nodded slowly, wrapping his free arm around her waist, securing his hold on her. She sighed, leaning her head against his chest, as if it was the most natural thing to do, and said, "I didn't come out here to seduce you, Ardeth."  
  
A chuckle began deep within his chest and he answered softly, "It would not require much effort on your part, Celia." A tightening against her leg confirmed that. Oh my. No, she supposed not. She pulled back, so she could look into his eyes, and Ardeth turned bright red. He admitted, "It. . .has been a very long time. Since I held a woman like this, a woman not of my family. I. . ." He looked away, and Celia reached up to touch his cheek, drawing his face back.  
  
"I'm not offended, Ardeth, I'm flattered," she said softly. Oh, was she flattered! Her heart didn't seem to want to stop pounding. Ardeth smiled at that, his dark eyes shining. Celia took a deep breath and asked, "Do we have a chance together? Not Rameses and Ardath, but Ardeth and Celia? I don't know what the Med-jai will ask of me, I don't even know what the Med-jai chieftain wants. I know that something will be asked of me. I'm an outsider, a Westerner. . .I know I'll have to prove myself. Prove myself worthy."  
  
"I am not sure, Celia. I cannot lie to you. I do not even know how to say this. Ah. . . when we first met, I saw something in your eyes. Something I recognized, for I have seen it many times myself. Felt it. I saw the loneliness in your eyes. And at first, I did not know why. I could see, from that first day, the troubled relationship between yourself and your brother. But, you have your daughter," Ardeth replied, his eyes searching her face for something Celia didn't fully understand.  
  
But that was the least of her concerns at the moment, for she could feel the rigidity in his body. The halting manner in which he spoke almost broke her heart. Ardeth Bey was one of the strongest, most capable men she ever met. And once more, it humbled her that he would let down his guard like this with her. That he would trust her with this part of him that so few saw. She hadn't thought it possible for Ardeth Bey to surprise her again today, but she was wrong. Ardeth muttered something under his breath in Arabic, then tried again, "I realized that your loneliness was the same kind as mine, and it drew me to you."  
  
"Common ground," Celia said quietly. Again, a soft exhalation of breath was released from Ardeth, taking some of the tension in his body with it. She studied his face closely, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat. Goddess, he was *so* beautiful. And he was drawn to her? Celia Ferguson, a drab little woman whom most people didn't find particularly interesting, unless it was to gossip about how that Carstairs man tricked her into bed, when everyone knew he had ties to *certain people,* he was drawn to that Celia Ferguson?  
  
"Awya, common ground. We knew the same kind of loneliness, for the same reason. Oh Allah. . .this. . .ask me to lead my men into certain death against Anubis Warriors or the Scorpion King or against the Creature, and this is something I can do. Why is it so hard for me to say these words to you? I want you in Cairo, Celia. I want you safe, but I do not wish you to go!" Ardeth said urgently.  
  
His hands left her waist, to cup her face in his hands. Slowly, tenderly, he tucked several dark curls behind Celia's ears. His eyes bored into hers, begging her to understand what he was saying. Even as he whispered, "You have found your way into my heart, Celia Ferguson. I have been so lonely, and you filled that emptiness within me. I do not ask if you can love me. It is too soon for you to know that, when you have been through so much."  
  
Celia started to answer indignantly. . .wait a minute! Did she or did she not just ask him if they had a chance together? But Ardeth wasn't finished. He said in a soft voice, his eyes filled with emotions that echoed in his voice, "I tell you this, not to burden you, but because you must know this. I only realized how. . .I only realized this afternoon what you mean to me, and I find I cannot hold it inside. I have done that for sixteen years, Celia. I can do it no more."  
  
The rush of words silenced Celia. Ardeth looked into her eyes, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. The young woman felt her own blood stirring in reaction to his touch. Sensations were flooding through her, things which she never experienced before. She wanted to close her eyes, lose herself in that touch, but found she couldn't look away from those beautiful, compelling dark eyes. Especially not when Ardeth whispered, "I love you, Celia. I. . ."  
  
Time to silence him. She rocked up on her toes and kissed him. Ardeth groaned against her mouth, and that was that. She found herself enfolded in a fierce embrace. Between Ardeth's kiss and his arms about her, Celia's world was rapidly narrowing down to just them. There was room for no one else, and dimly, she could understand Rick O'Connell shutting out the rest of the world. And then thoughts of Rick O'Connell were washed away as well.  
  
. . .  
  
He stood alone, atop this cliff where so many times, he maintained his vigil over Hamunaptra. He needed to look at the City of the Dead. He needed to focus. But the more he stared at that accursed city, the harder it became for him to achieve that focus. Ardeth was so angry, so very angry. For much of his life, he denied that rage, denied what he felt inside, because it served no purpose.  
  
But he was angry with those of his bloodline. Technically speaking, of course, Hamadi Bey wasn't of his bloodline, but they shared the same last name. And it was Hamadi Bey who cast the hom-dai, cursing not only Imhotep, but the Med-jai of future generations. Including Ardeth himself, who faced the rising of Imhotep not once, but twice. Oh yes, he was angry.  
  
He feared Imhotep was not finished with the world of the living, and Ardeth had enough concerns with just Khaldun. He thought back to what he told Jonathan, about what Khaldun would do to Celia. He thought, at the time, that Khaldun was already aware of Celia's identity, that she was the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, whom Khaldun hated because of the joy she brought to Rameses. To. . .him. Ardeth forced himself to focus on the current problem, rather than other things.  
  
Khaldun drew strength from pain. He already killed nine Med-jai, torturing each of them to death. He gained a great deal of strength from those deaths, from those hours of torture. Why, then, was he not strong enough to breach Hamunaptra's walls now? What was stopping him? It was not simply that of the Med-jai who came to face him, none were the reincarnation of the cousin whom he hated so much.  
  
A voice whispered, //Despair. Yes, Khaldun grows strong on pain, but he needs despair. None of the Med-jai despaired. They stayed true to themselves, and to you. Khaldun has fed on the despair of the boy Jason. That is why he is still too weak to leave Hamunaptra.// Ardeth closed his eyes, understanding. Despair. Yes, of course. How could he forget about the balance between hope and despair, a balance he struggled to maintain daily?  
  
Despair. That explained it perfectly. But rather than reassuring Ardeth, it frightened him all the more. He had faith in the Med-jai, in the benevolence of the gods. But Ardeth Bey knew all too well that he was just a man. He failed to keep the Creature in his grave. Twice. And he feared he would not be strong enough to prevent Khaldun from wreaking havoc.  
  
Then he felt it. As a warrior, his instincts guided him well, and it was his instincts that told him the sudden presence at his side was nothing to fear. A quick glance affirmed this, for it was Celia there. Her hand lightly brushed his, and some of Ardeth's fears faded. Not from her touch, but because he realized that he need not face these horrors alone. Yes, he would enter Hamunaptra without her. . .but her spirit would be with him. She had no need to say the words, because Ardeth knew it to be true. As long as he needed her, she would always be there with her quiet determination which melded so well with his own.  
  
That was why he finally told her that he loved her. Not just because he did love her, but because if he died in Hamunaptra, he wanted that to be her final memory of him. This cliff, overlooking the accursed city, and his love for her. Then, as Celia often seemed to do when she was aggravated, she took matters into her own hands. She kissed him. And may the gods forgive him, but Ardeth could not release her, once her lips covered his own.  
  
He groaned against her mouth, feeling himself drowning in her. His arms drew her against his body tightly, so tightly. But she didn't try to move away, just tangled her fingers in his hair and drew him even closer to her. Ardeth hadn't thought that possible, but the only things now separating them from each other were their clothes. Neither was aware of slowly sliding down, until they were both on their knees.  
  
Very little rational thought remained. Just Celia, this stubborn, brave, beautiful young woman who quietly slipped past all of his defenses, all of his shields. He was dimly aware that her fingers were no longer combing through his hair. Instead, her hands glided down his shoulders, skimming along his arms, until her arms wrapped around his waist. Ardeth did not mind. He wanted her to hold him, just as he was now holding her.  
  
Time vanished, leaving only the reality of Celia in his arms. They broke apart briefly, both breathing heavily, and Ardeth rested his forehead against hers. Did he love this woman enough to fight for her? He knew there would be difficulties. She was an outsider, and though she had respect for their ways, it would be an uphill battle. For some reason, perhaps because he knew of her past, Ardeth no longer doubted her strength to stand up to such scrutiny. The only way to answer the question, did he love her enough to fight for her, was to ask another question.  
  
One that made him cold inside. What would his life be like, if he did not? He told Celia that she filled an emptiness inside him, and he never even realized he had that emptiness until now. He knew that he was lonely, but that was somewhat different. She filled up the emptiness with her smile, with her ability to listen, with her quiet offer to read to him. And he could think of no one better suited to be the mother of his children than this woman.  
  
Perhaps because his heart was now open, he would find another who could fill up that loneliness. But he didn't want another. He wanted Celia. He loved her. He would fight for her, as she would fight for him. If he lived through this confrontation with Khaldun, and the hell that followed. Yes, he would fight for this woman. And in making that decision, a new resolve filled his heart and soul, pushing out the despair.  
  
Ardeth opened his eyes, to find Celia looking back at him, her own eyes grave and intense, as if she knew what was going on inside of his mind. He gave her a lopsided smile, then kissed her. This was very different from the first time he kissed her. This was no mere brush of the lips, and there was nothing held back. No more shields, no more defenses. Ardeth Bey the chieftain stepped into the background oncemore, simply fading away.  
  
And they would have stayed that way for another several hours, Ardeth had no doubt, but he heard a very strange noise. Reluctantly, oh, so reluctantly, he pulled back from Celia, to find his warriors staring up at them. Several, like Garai, Hanif, and Kaphiri, were elbowing each other and grinning. Still others were simply looking up at him with solemn faces. Ardeth helped Celia to her feet.  
  
However, he forgot that he was considerably taller than she was, and until she stood up, she hadn't realized they had an audience. She gave a little squeak of embarrassment, burying her face in his robes. And then Ardeth saw it, in the eyes of more than one man. Fury. It didn't take much to figure out why. Their chieftain was in love with an outsider, of the same nationality as several desecrators of Hamunaptra.  
  
It would not be easy. But Ardeth knew Celia was worth it. In Arabic, he called down to the men that he would be down shortly, and once they had dispersed, he whispered in English, "They are gone, my Celia." Celia removed her face from his robes, still looking very embarrassed. He said softly, "I will take you back to my sister's tent, Celia. In the morning, you will leave. In one week's time, I will come to you."  
  
She nodded gravely, then she said softly, "I don't think you're ready for me to tell you how I feel about you. I'm not even sure if I'm ready to say the words. But I don't want you. . .I want you to keep something of me with you. I don't know how much European history you know, but during the Middle Ages, a lady would give a favorite champion a favor, a special item. Now, I'm no lady, but you're definitely a champion."  
  
Ardeth blushed at that, and Celia continued, reluctantly pulling out of his embrace to remove something from around her neck, "This is a medicine bag I inherited from my grandmother. I want you to have it, so it can keep you safe. Honestly, I think it helped to protect me while I was inside that infernal carpet." Ardeth was on the point of telling her to keep it, that she would require it, until he realized that to turn away her gift would be to dishonor her.  
  
So, he bowed his head, allowing Celia placeit around his neck. The medicine bag rested against his medallion, and he smiled at her. He didn't know what to say, aside from 'thank you,' and that seemed so wrong. She smiled back and said softly, "May it keep you safe until you come back to me. Will you see me off in the morning, Ardeth Bey?" Ardeth inclined his head. He had not intended to do so. Now, no force on earth would prevent him from seeing off the woman he loved. He knew not when he would see her again, he could only pray that fate would safely lead them back to each other.  
  
. . .  
  
There were times when Mathayus truly hated not living in the mortal world. It never really bothered him, until he saw the passionate kisses exchanged by Ardeth Bey and Celia Ferguson. Until he heard the soft groan drawn from the Med-jai chieftain when Celia kissed him, and the waves of desire coming from both young people radiated out into In-Between, almost knocking Mathayus off his feet.  
  
He steadied himself, swallowing hard at the glimpse inside both minds. He would have never thought the Med-jai could have such a vivid imagination, but what he saw in Ardeth's mind almost had Mathayus blushing. Not the young chieftain's conscious mind, which was focused solely on the kisses, but his subconscious. And that was quite explicit indeed concerning what he wanted to be doing with Celia Ferguson.  
  
And, he noticed, Anck-su-namun was similarly affected. Mathayus shook himself and looked at his companion. Right now she looked a little unsteady on her feet, and Mathayus almost smiled as she said somewhat weakly, *Oh goddess. That. . .he. . .* She shook her head in stunned disbelief. Now Mathayus did smile, a smile which turned into a laugh disguised by a cough as Anck added, *How could she kiss him with all that hair???*  
  
*Perhaps she knows no differently?* Mathayus questioned, his eyebrows raised in a mock-innocent expression. Anck glared at him, and Mathayus continued with a laugh, *I speak the truth, Anck-su-namun! To her, it is no different than you kissing Imhotep, even before he was fully regenerated.* Mathayus couldn't quite hold back a grimace of disgust at that particular image. No, Meela hadn't realized at the time that he wasn't fully regenerated, but still. . .  
  
*That was not me,* Anck asserted with icy dignity, *that was Meela Nais, that traitorous trollop.* Mathayus was amused by her alliteration, then Anck continued softly, *For all my resentment of Nefertiri, and I did resent her, I never hated her. I never wanted to hurt her.* Mathayus knew that. He saw her in Ahm Shere. Anck-su-namun had several chances to actually harm Nefertiri. She took none of them, instead, choosing to restrain her in the confusion when O'Connell and Imhotep jockeyed for the chance to kill the Scorpion King and return the Army of Anubis to the Underworld, or use it to wipe out humanity.  
  
He replied in a gentle voice, *I know, Anck-su-namun. But you did hurt her. You hurt her many times, without giving a thought to the consequences. You were surprised by her rage and her hatred in Ahm Shere, but in truth, I was not. Evelyn O'Connell had no way of knowing whether you were Anck-su-namun or Meela Nais. And I do know, even if you do not. It was Meela Nais who stabbed Evelyn O'Connell.*  
  
*I want to believe that. I never hated Nefertiri! I resented her because of Seti, and because of her coldness toward Ardath, but I did not hate her!* Anck replied almost tearfully. Mathayus settled his hand on her shoulder, feeling the protective walls around Anck's heart crack wide open. This was good. This was very good. Anck wiped at her eyes almost angrily, continuing, *I just. . .I just wanted. . .*  
  
*I know, Anck,* Mathayus soothed, *But what you must understand is that Nefertiri was trying to protect herself. She feared allowing herself to love her brother's concubine, perhaps because she sensed that Ardath had not long to live. Nefertiri was still reeling from her mother's death. She was afraid, Anck-su-namun. As afraid as you were after Ardath died. As afraid as you were when you realized that you and Imhotep were out of options.*  
  
Anck actually paled and whispered, *I never knew. All this time, I resented Nefertiri as much for Ardath as I did for everything else. And she. . . I have been so stupid, Mathayus! I betrayed my best friend, I betrayed my love. I betrayed everyone who ever tried to care for me, including Seti. Why would the gods allow me to be reborn? With everything I have done, I do not deserve a second chance!*  
  
*You were allowed to be reborn, because it was time for me to awaken. Everything happened because it was meant to happen. If I was not awakened, Ma'at would have never taken notice, and believed that I, too, was worthy of a second chance. Anck, you are not responsible for Meela's choices, any more than Ardeth Bey is responsible for the mistakes of Rameses. It is good that you take responsibility for what you did wrong. But you must not let that cripple you. Your work is not yet done, child,* Mathayus replied.  
  
*My. . .my work is not yet done? Then I have a second chance? To make things right? With everyone?* Anck-su-namun asked hopefully and Mathayus inclined his head with a faint smile. Not just with Ardath (or Celia, whichever name you preferred) and Imhotep, but with Nefertiri and Rameses as well. With all of them, though Terumun and Nassor were really at the bottom of the priority list.  
  
*With everyone,* he confirmed, *but mostly with Ardath, Imhotep, and Rameses. In part, because of whom Rameses is now.* He knew of no other way to put it. Anck lowered her eyes, and Mathayus understood that she was starting to feel shame for many things. He knew this woman too well to think that she would apologize for all of the choices she made, but he was also realizing that at the very least, she regretted some of those choices.  
  
He continued after a moment, *She will have need of you, Anck-su- namun. She will need your strength and your love, as never before. Things are beginning to fall into place, and there will be no more room for petty resentments or jealousy. Are you ready to become that friend for Ardath? To hold nothing back from her, and do exactly what she needs you to do? Are you ready to finally fulfill that part of your destiny?*  
  
Anck passed her hand over the reflection of Celia's face, as she and her daughter packed for their journey the following day. She whispered, *She is the reincarnation of my forever friend. I could not protect Ardath from Khaldun.* Anck looked back up at Mathayus, her chin lifting as she said, *But I will do everything within my power to protect her reincarnation. Yes, Scorpion King Mathayus, I am ready to do whatever is necessary in what lies ahead.*  
  
**I told you, my son. Now, it is time to prepare for the trials to come,** Ma'at whispered to Mathayus. The Scorpion King nodded his acknowledgment of the words of the goddess, giving Anck-su-namun an approving smile at the same time. Her shoulders straightened, and now Mathayus could see what drew Seti and Imhotep to her.  
  
As if she heard the goddess, Anck said determinedly, *I am ready. Just tell me what I need to do.* Mathayus put his hand on her shoulder. What he would ask of her, in the beginning would be far easier than the task he had for himself. She would, for the moment, simply protect Celia and Miranda. Mathayus knew she could handle that, especially now that she wasn't second guessing Celia. His own task was to be much harder. Observe what came next, and continue to observe. He was not permitted to intervene. No matter what.  
  
. . .  
  
Altair Bey was not unaware of the way things were progressing between her son and Celia Ferguson. For one thing, she heard two young warriors excitedly talking about the kisses as she left her tent. It amused her, hearing them talk. One thing she never knew was that Ardeth, despite his own inexperience, never interfered with the love lives of the young warriors. The only times he interfered was if the girl was unwilling, or things were going too far.  
  
The young warriors were not particularly pleased that Ardeth fell in love with a Westerner, but they were pleased that he finally fell in love. One of the warriors bravely pointed out that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, that Celia was an American. After all, it wasn't as if she acted like O'Connell, and besides, Altair herself was born an outsider. Not everyone could be honored enough to be born a Med-jai.  
  
That remark would have made her laugh, if she wasn't keeping her presence from the pair. Apparently, her son actually told Celia Ferguson that he loved her. And when she tried to answer her, added that he had not told her for her to tell him that she reciprocated, but so she would know. Altair didn't realize just how far gone things were between them, that her son would kiss the American and actually tell her that he loved her.  
  
She was returning to Cairo the following day, leaving at the same time Ardeth was setting out for Hamunaptra to gather more information, and possibly confront Khaldun. That was, of course, why Ardeth told Celia that he loved her. Because he did not know if he would return, and if he did not, he wanted her to know. Perhaps to heal the wounds caused by that pathetic excuse for a man? Perhaps. But Altair had faith that her son would come back, which meant it was time she had a conversation with Celia Ferguson.  
  
She found her opportunity after dinner. As she usually did, Celia and her daughter were eating with Acacia and Aleta. Altair's two daughters forged a tentative friendship with her, perhaps in light of the hours they spent with her after her rescue. Altair smiled down at the young women, saying, "Cecelia, I would be honored if you and your daughter would join me in my tent after dinner."  
  
"O. . .of course. When should we join you?" Celia asked, quickly regaining her composure despite her evident surprise. However, Altair didn't miss the quick, concerned looks she directed at Acacia and Aleta. Both of Altair's daughters responded with reassuring looks. Celia didn't relax, but she did look back at Altair questioningly. For some reason, that need for reassurance from her daughters hurt Altair.  
  
But she replied, "In thirty minutes? To give you and Miranda time to finish dinner, and find my tent. Acacia, you will guide them?" Her older daughter nodded, and Altair saw Celia flash Acacia a grateful smile. Altair inclined her head and took her leave, saying, "Until then." Celia inclined her head in response, and Altair made her way to where Ardeth was sitting. No great surprise, he was finished eating, now watched the horses. He always loved horses.  
  
She slipped her arm around his waist from behind, saying softly, "I remember a five year old boy who sat on the corral fence while his father worked with the stallions." There was a soft laugh and Altair kissed her son's cheek, adding, "It is rare that I have the opportunity to talk with my son these days, as my son, not as the chieftain. Do your duties require you tonight?" Ardeth thought about it, then he shook his head. Altair promised herself that she would not give him a hard time about taking care of himself.  
  
"No, Mother, I am yours to command tonight," came the cheeky response. If he was twenty years younger, Altair would have swatted his behind, but the mother was so glad to see traces of that young boy in her too-serious son, she satisfied herself with a swat to the back of his shoulder. Ardeth laughed, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. Altair found her hardened heart softening, ever so slightly, toward Celia. It was clear that she was the reason for the return of Ardeth's mischievous streak.  
  
"Then I command you to come to my tent in thirty minutes, my son. Since you have declared your heart to Celia Ferguson, I should learn more about her," Altair replied sweetly. Ardeth looked at his mother, but it was too late for him to back out, though he knew what she was doing. He simply inclined his head, and Altair smiled at him. She kissed him on the cheek once more and sauntered away, feeling quite pleased with herself.  
  
If Altair Bey thought she pulled one over on her son, as the Americans, it could also be said that one was pulled over on her, by her own daughters. Who, in their infinite wisdom, asked Evelyn O'Connell to join them. However, as Ardeth entered the tent, his dark eyes sweeping over the women already there, Altair had to admit the girls had a point. After all, the Englishwoman was the reincarnation of Nefertiri, which made her a sister of sorts to Altair's son.  
  
She smiled, which didn't quite reach her eyes as she stared at Evelyn O'Connell, and said, "Welcome. Cecelia, as I told Ardeth, I should learn more about you, and this will allow you to see a side to Ardeth that you might not expect." Ardeth was glaring at her for all he was worth, but Altair did not survive raising five children to be cowed by one of those children now. She smiled, gesturing at him to sit beside Celia, while Miranda sat in her mother's lap.  
  
"I would like that," Celia said simply as she looked up at Ardeth. Altair used that moment to study the girl's face closely. She saw now, the connection between her son and the American woman. The matriarch trembled, as she began to accept that her son might actually love this woman. She did not want to believe it. They knew each other only a fortnight, after all, but it took her less time to fall in love with Ardeth's father, nearly forty years earlier.  
  
"Me, too! Will you tell us about Ardeth when he was a little boy, like Darius?" Miranda asked eagerly. This time, Altair's smile was totally unfeigned as she looked at the little girl. She really was a beautiful child, and she obviously adored Ardeth. That adoration was totally mutual, she saw, as Ardeth reached over to caress her dark hair. Miranda turned her head toward Altair's son with a blinding smile.  
  
"I believe I will! But before I do, I must compliment you, Cecelia. Your daughter is very eloquent for someone her age, unlike my son. Up until he was four years of age, he could not pronounce his own name properly," Altair replied. Ardeth made a noise in the back of his throat that most people would have mistaken for a growl. However, Altair knew her son better, and knew it to be a barely strangled moan.  
  
"Well, thank you, but I mangled my own given name just as badly. I always told people that my name was 'Thelia,' up until I was about six or seven. I couldn't say the 'c' properly. It drove my parents quite mad, I remember them telling me that I sounded like a little street urchin," came the response. Celia was smiling, but there was a hint of pain in her eyes. The answer gave Altair pause, for she and Suleiman would never say such a thing to their children.  
  
She was concerned by Ardeth's struggle to speak his name properly, but Suleiman reminded her that Ardeth was very small yet, and his was a rather unusual name. His little tongue was still being formed, and he would grow out of it. They would have never ridiculed him for it, although Andreas might have. Miranda looked up at her mother, who was combing her fingers through Miranda's hair, and said rather indignantly, "That wasn't very nice of them!"  
  
Celia responded with a half smile, answering, "They didn't mean to be like that, Miranda. Well yes, they did, but it wasn't their intention to be cruel. As I got older, I realized that appearances were very important to them, and my speech problems embarassed them." Altair again was given pause, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing in testing the beloved of her son in this way. Given her own past, it was likely that Altair's attempts would backfire.  
  
Then she would proceed slowly and cautiously. She said, "We Med-jai set little store by appearances. Especially where the happiness and welfare of our children are concerned. I can think of several incidents from Ardeth's childhood which would have horrified your parents, but were as nothing to us. Well, aside from Ardeth, who was mortified as he got older and learned of the incident. I do not know why. He did nothing un- natural."  
  
Perhaps seeing what was ahead, Ardeth buried his face in his hands with a groan. Celia looked at him worriedly, her free hand going to his shoulder in a gentle touch. Miranda asked, "You mean like the time when Uncle Jason had to chase me all over the house after I had my bath? He got really mad. Said that proper little girls didn't run around without clothes. I was real little, I think Mommy said I was two when that happened. I don't remember it."  
  
"When did Uncle Jason say that to you? You were only eighteen months old, Miranda, and your uncle was supposed to wait until I got home, so I could give you your bath," Celia said. She looked at Altair, adding, "My brother. . .he always complained about how unpredictable 'Randa was. I told him that she was supposed to be unpredictable, that she was still learning about her world." She shook her head in disgust.  
  
"Well, yes, something like that *did* happen, right around the same age, in fact. And like your brother with Miranda, Ardeth lost his swaddling clothes because of an irresponsible older person. In this case, my older son, Andreas, who decided he was big enough to change Ardeth. Andreas was all of seven years old at the time, and he didn't fasten the swaddling clothes properly. So, when Ardeth started running around. . ." Altair explained.  
  
"Down came the clothes. Ouch," Celia said with a sympathetic look toward Ardeth. Altair could see that she was trying very hard not to smile. The story was funny, Altair knew herself, but she was obviously trying to spare Ardeth's feelings. She found out the reason why a moment later, as Celia added, "I'm told I was quite the little exhibitionist myself when I was that age. But my grandmother would allow me to run around in just a diaper, instead of a full outfit. It thoroughly scandalized my grandmother's neighbors, that I would be allowed to run around like a little savage." Celia rolled her eyes at that, and Altair knew she passed the first set of tests.  
  
. . .  
  
Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell was, for once, simply minding her own business when Aleta Bey approached her. Of the Bey siblings, she was the most like Ardeth. Which admittedly didn't stop her from glaring at Rick every time she saw him, and she told the Englishwoman that while Evy herself usually started the trouble, she was also willing to try to make things right.  
  
And, on the other hand, her husband usually buried his head in the sand until he wasn't given any other choice. Which, Evy realized, was among the reasons for the resentment among the Med-jai toward Rick, one of many. That was why she was invited to this meeting, and Rick was not. Aleta approached her while she was alone, inviting only her. Rick and Alex were off on their own, and Evy left word with Jonathan where she was going.  
  
She quickly realized why Rick wasn't invited. By rights, she wasn't supposed to have been invited. She saw that in Altair Bey's eyes, but the woman would not balk now. As Evy listened, she also came to understand that just as Rick wasn't invited because Altair did not trust him, Celia was invited for one reason and one reason only. Altair Bey was judging her worthiness to wed Altair's son, not the Med-jai chieftain. The matriarch wanted to protect her son from a woman who didn't truly care for him. But as the stories were told, and Evy watched the expression on her friend's face, she came to understand one other thing. While the stories were funny, Celia was very sensitive to Ardeth's reactions.  
  
While the swaddling clothes incident was the funniest, there were other stories. How, as a small boy of three or four, Ardeth saw what he thought was an attack on his father. The little boy immediately attacked the 'assailants,' only to find that they were Med-jai without markings on their faces. Suleiman Bey was torn between pride in his son and his duties as a host. But the visitors were not offended by the little boy's staunch defense of their father. They, in fact, congratulated Suleiman on his fierce little son.  
  
As she listened, Evy watched Celia carefully, taking note of her reactions, as well as where her hands were. During another story about Ardeth and his father, Celia quietly slid her hand down Ardeth's forearm, to take his hand and squeeze it gently. Like Evy, she picked up on the way Ardeth tensed when his father was mentioned. When he was very small, before Suleiman realized that Ardeth would be a better chieftain, he was free to be simply Ardeth's father when he was around the little boy. And he adored that tiny, beautiful boy.  
  
One time, when Ardeth was about two, Suleiman came back to their village, badly injured. They were not sure if he would live, and after the healers did all they could, he was left alone to rest. Or so everyone thought. But when Altair returned to her husband, after checking on her infant daughter Acacia, she found her second son sitting beside her husband, huge tears rolling down his small face as he held his father's much larger hand.  
  
In his own language, which was a combination of the ancient Egyptian, Arabic, and Greek languages spoke around the Med-jai camp, Altair learned that Ardeth had a dream that his father was dying. It scared him, so he came into the tent and held his hand, to make sure that his father's spirit didn't slip away from them. And no matter how hard she tried, Altair couldn't get the frightened little boy to release his grip, not even in his sleep.  
  
At this, Evy had to wipe away tears. She wasn't the only one. Celia was quietly crying, as was Miranda. Ardeth said in a small voice, as if there was a large lump in his throat he could barely speak around, "I do not remember this. I do not remember any of these stories. Not even Father holding me on the horse when I was five. Was he angry with me, Mother, for failing to obey you and return to the tent I shared with Acacia?"  
  
"Oh no, sweet boy! He was so proud of you, Ardeth. From that day on, he called you his little guardian, and told everyone that his little son kept him from dying. He said that you did, indeed, keep him from slipping away from us," Altair assured him, wiping away her own tears. Evy had a sense that she never shared these stories before, not since her husband's death.  
  
She resolved to tell that to Celia, once they left. Altair continued after a moment, "He was so proud of you. And so afraid for you, for he saw while you were still very young that you would make a much better chieftain than your brother Andreas. In his zeal to properly prepare you for possible trials that you would face, he stopped being your father and became your teacher and chieftain."  
  
"I don't understand, Altair," Celia said quietly, wiping away her tears and those of her daughter, "forgive me for interrupting, but I don't understand at all. How do you mean, he stopped being Ardeth's father?" Altair inclined her head, in acknowledgment of Celia's statement. Evy had a pretty good idea, but she wanted to hear from Altair herself.  
  
"That is a fair question, Cecelia, and requires no apology. My husband focused more on training Ardeth to eventually become the chieftain, than on simply loving him. Ardeth tried very hard to please his father. The result was only hours before his death, my husband lamented his foolishness, for in his attempts to prepare Ardeth for what would come, he turned our thirteen year old son into an adult before he even took his manhood rites," Altair explained.  
  
For the first time since the beginning of this story, Evy looked at Ardeth. He was clenching his jaw tightly, but despite his efforts, Evy could see the telltale moisture in his eyes. Altair looked at her son, saying softly, "He loved you so much, Ardeth. He wanted to tell you that, before he died. How much he loved you and believed in you, he wanted you to know how proud he was of you and always would be, but his wounds were too great."  
  
Miranda crawled from her mother's lap into Ardeth's, taking for granted that his free arm would wind around her. And it did. Evy wasn't sure if Miranda would understand exactly why Ardeth was so sad, but it didn't matter because the child sensed that he *was* sad. The why was irrelevant. Evy swallowed the lump in her own throat. Not just at Ardeth's obvious pain, but at the picture in front of her. Ardeth struggling to control his emotions, while Celia held his hand and Miranda cuddled against him. They looked like a family.  
  
Then Miranda said in a tiny voice, "I wish I'd known Ardeth's daddy. Was he pretty like Ardeth?" The question broke the tension in the tent, and Altair laughed a little, as did both her daughters. Ardeth managed a smile, dropping a gentle kiss on Miranda's dark head. Evy herself smiled at the little girl, barely blinking back tears herself. She wished Rick was here to see this side of their friend, the mourning son who never realized how much he meant to his father.  
  
"Oh sweet Miranda, Ardeth looks just like his father, so much so, it takes my breath away sometimes," Altair answered in a rush. She smiled at the little girl again, adding, "Just as you look like your mama, especially when you smile. You have your mama's smile, do you know that?" Altair looked at Celia, and while her words were directed at Miranda, Evy knew they were meant for Celia as well. She said softly, "Your mother has an honest smile, and honest eyes. Mind that you stay that way, Miranda, that you are worthy of the trust you are given."  
  
Celia inclined her head toward Altair, message received and understood. It would not be necessary for Evy to tell her friend that this was a test of trust. She already knew. And once more, Miranda broke the tension, asking, "Can you tell me more stories about Ardeth when he was a little boy? Funny stories, like when he ran around without his clothes?" This time, everyone in the tent laughed, including Ardeth.  
  
"Perhaps another time, little one, you must be up early tomorrow. You will be leaving us, but I fully expect both you and your mama to come back. I hope you shall," Altair replied. Miranda made a face, but desisted after a Look from her mother. Altair looked back at Celia, saying, "I have been honored to know you, Cecelia Ferguson, and I hope your stay with us has been pleasant." Celia inclined her head with a smile. Evy's friend learned fast.  
  
"Very pleasant, and it has been a privilege to meet you, Lady Altair," the young American woman said with a half smile. Evy beamed at her friend, very proud of Celia. She knew they would need to talk on the way back to Evy's tent, where Celia and Miranda were staying tonight. But she was very proud of the way Celia handled herself tonight. The American looked at Ardeth, asking softly, "I will see you in the morning? Before I leave?"  
  
"You will," the chieftain affirmed, raising the hand which held his to his lips and gracing her knuckles with a gentle kiss. Celia smiled, her entire face lighting up. Evy glanced at Altair, and thought, *I do believe you have your answers. From both of them.* While Evy wasn't certain herself that Celia loved Ardeth, she did know how much her friend cared for him, and believed in time, that would grow into love. Time would tell. It always did. 


	16. The Magic Circle vs Khaldun round one

Deana: Yup, Ardeth has finally remembered. Annabelle did tell Celia that she would be the one to awaken Ardeth's memories. . .it's just that no one expected it to be quite like that! And I knew you'd like that line of Anck's, about how could she kiss him with all that hair.  
  
Cindy: If you liked the last chapter, then you'll love the next three. I based Miranda on several children I've known who were about that age. She's a little doll, isn't she? And quite the unholy terror when she feels secure.  
  
Part Fifteen  
  
Ardeth spent that night, barely able to sleep. He knew he should be sleeping, since he would face Khaldun, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. When he wasn't thinking about Celia, he was thinking about his father, searching his memories for what his mother told him the previous night. He was still thinking about that the following morning as he was preparing his horse for the ride to Hamunaptra. And he was also thinking about Celia.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Ardeth turned, thinking that his musings on Celia was leading him to imagine her voice even when she was not there. Instead, he discovered that very special young American woman. He had not seen Celia since she left his mother's tent, the previous night. He started to tell her that she didn't have to say that, but Celia put her hand to his lips, saying softly, "I love you. And yes, it is necessary for me to say that, because it is true."  
  
Ardeth didn't know what to say, even if Celia didn't have her fingers over his lips. Besides, she made it un-necessary, for she continued, "I thought about this all night. I will be the first to admit, I'm not real experienced when it comes to love between a man and a woman goes. I thought I was in love with Carstairs, but what I felt for him before I realized he betrayed me, doesn't even approach the way I feel with you."  
  
"How do you feel? When you are with me?" Ardeth questioned hoarsely. She gave him such a sweet smile, Ardeth felt his heart knocking about in his chest like a runaway horse. As it was, he couldn't believe that she truly felt for him as he felt for her. He knew that it was so soon after they met, not even two full weeks. By nature, both he and Celia were very cautious people, for their own reasons.  
  
"Safe. . .protected. I feel. . .beautiful. Strong. Intelligent. I. . .I want to take care of you, even as you take care of me. And you do take care of me, Ardeth, as much as you take care of your people. Loving anyone is a risk, whether they're the Med-jai chieftain or just another person. The question becomes, do the benefits outweigh the risks? And you are worth any risk I could take, Ardeth. My only fear is that I'll some how fail you," Celia answered.  
  
"You would risk this, even knowing that I cannot make you my first priority, as Evelyn and Alex are first with O'Connell? You are willing to accept that? You deserve only the best, Celia," Ardeth told her. He was graced with another sweet smile as he led her to her own horse. This one almost made his knees turn to water. He vaguely noted that O'Connell was watching him impatiently, but it was not that American who was important to him now.  
  
"You are worth the risk, Ardeth, and I do not need to be a first priority, only a priority. I would never ask you to place my life above the lives of thousands. I'm not strong enough to handle those consequences or that guilt," Celia replied. She cupped his face in her hands, saying softly, "All I ask is that you love me and my daughter. And you do. I believe you could not possibly love Miranda more if she was your own."  
  
"It will not be easy, Celia," he warned softly, his eyes never leaving hers. His logical mind was telling him that he was crazy. There was no way he could love this woman after so short a time. In his life, he never fell in love before. How was it possible, even knowing that they loved each other in past lives? And yet, his heart was more certain of that than almost anything else in his life.  
  
"I know. I realized that last night, but Ardeth, you will not frighten me. I love you. And I will fight for you, in any way I can," Celia replied firmly, determinedly. Ardeth started to say something more, one more chance to warn her, but for the second time in as many days, Celia took things into her own hands. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissed him quite firmly.  
  
Ardeth folded her into his arms, returning the kiss passionately. He could not get enough of this woman, and he groaned softly at her touch. She was perhaps not a skilled kisser, but there was one thing Ardeth realized, when he was capable of conscious thought. When Celia kissed, it was with her entire heart and soul. And that was how she seduced him, with her honesty.  
  
"Oh, would you two get a room? Sheesh!" O'Connell protested loudly. Ardeth groaned again as he broke off the kiss. He looked down at Celia, who reluctantly stepped back. O'Connell continued muttering under his breath, adding a "HEY!" when Evelyn smacked his shoulder. He said, "I don't know why you're hitting me, Evy, when he's the one who wouldn't let your best friend up for air."  
  
"If you do not wish to see, O'Connell, then do not look. We do not require an audience," Ardeth fired back as he helped Celia to mount behind her daughter. Miranda, however, evidently decided that if Ardeth would kiss her mother, then he would have to kiss her as well.  
  
She leaned precariously over the side of the horse, her lips puckered in a kiss. Ardeth had no trouble with that, and accepted her kiss to his cheek, responding with one of his own against her forehead. O'Connell retorted, now laughing, "Hey buddy, you're the one kissing my houseguest in front of me! I figure I'm entitled to look!" Ardeth helped Celia to right her daughter on the horse, then he looked at O'Connell.  
  
"And how many times have you kissed your wife in front of me?" Ardeth inquired. Evy grinned at him impishly, obviously pleased with his answer. O'Connell looked rather disgruntled, especially when Ardeth continued, "You may do the same thing I did and close your eyes." He turned to Nicodemus, whom Ardeth chose for this task. The young man was among those who witnessed Ardeth and Celia's kiss, and showed no disgust. Ardeth said softly, "Protect her with your life, Nicodemus. Protect her. . ."  
  
"I will, my chieftain. I will protect her as if she was my queen," Nicodemus replied. He looked at Hanif, Kaphiri, and Garai, adding, "We all will." Ardeth nodded, first to the boy, then to the other three members of the honor guard. Ardeth knew, without a word being said, that Garai would protect Celia and Miranda with his life. His memories of being Sennefer would allow him to do nothing less.  
  
The chieftain then looked at the woman whom he loved one last time, committing her face to memory. She smiled at him softly, gently blowing a kiss to him as she mouthed, 'I love you.' Then she carefully turned her horse and followed Nicodemus from the encampment. Ardeth stared after her, whispering, "I love you, my Celia, and may the gods protect you until we are together again." He sensed, rather than saw, his mother at his side and stated quietly, "She will be my wife. I have chosen her."  
  
"I know," came the simple reply, "I feared that she would be unable to see the man for the chieftain. You have ever been set apart by being the chieftain's son, then the chieftain's brother, and then the chieftain. But she sees my son, the man, and accepts that she cannot come first. I will fight for her at your side, my son. You have my blessing." Ardeth turned to face his mother, surprised by this. He never thought that his mother would agree so quickly.  
  
His mother smiled up at him tenderly and replied, "Oh my son. You are so like your father. I should have realized you would find solace in a woman not of our people. Just as Suleiman did. It will not be easy for her. But she has a strength of her own, and she will see this through. I have faith in her, and in you." Ardeth closed his arms around his mother, hearing the words she did not say. When it came time for the Council of Elders to acknowledge his marriage to Celia, his mother would speak on her behalf. He could have asked for no more.  
  
They held onto each other, then Ardeth released his mother, whispering in Greek, "I must go, Mother." She nodded as the three men who would accompany Ardeth to Hamunaptra joined them, bringing with them Ardeth's horse. Ardeth had not wanted them to come. He did not want more men to die, not after losing nine men already. But they insisted. . .they would not let their chieftain go alone, and in the end, Ardeth agreed.  
  
No good-byes were spoken. That was not the way of the Med-jai when they went into battle. And that was exactly what this was. As the four men rode to Hamunaptra, not a word was said. Ardeth was well aware that the three men with him were among those who disapproved of his relationship with Celia. But he was also aware that they were too honorable to allow that to stop them from doing their duty.  
  
As they entered Hamunaptra, the world around Ardeth shimmered and he felt as if a strong wind blew across his face. He closed his eyes reflexively, and when he opened them, he was still in Hamunaptra. But he was no longer in 1933. Rather, a man hung in front of him, his black eyes blazing with hatred. To his right, Ardeth heard chanting and recognized the voice of the Creature, then still Imhotep, High Priest and Rameses' friend.  
  
"So, my dear cousin," a familiar voice said, dripping with hatred, "you have finally returned to the scene of the crime, a crime which you committed with the aid of that whore-loving Imhotep." Ardeth blinked, and found himself back in his own time. Before him stood Jason Ferguson. It was Jason's body, but the eyes belonged to Khaldun. The other three Med- jai closed around Ardeth protectively, but it was all for naught. Khaldun clenched his fist, then opened it, sending all three men flying.  
  
Ardeth flinched as one by one, each man was impaled on stakes surrounding them. But he kept up his guard, keeping one eye on Khaldun at all times, even as he said a quiet prayer for the three men who just died. He said very softly, "I have come to end this, Khaldun, and to ensure that you never harm Lady Ardath, or any of her reincarnations, again." As these evil ones were wont to do, Khaldun threw back his head and laughed.  
  
"And who will stop me? You, the Med-jai spawn who carries the spirit of my dear cousin Rameses? You, who have failed to stop Imhotep from rising twice, and will soon fail a third time? You, who cannot even protect your own men from me? You have become even more of a fool, you. . .you BASTARD!" Khaldun screamed suddenly. Ardeth found himself flying through the air, before slamming hard into a pillar of stone.  
  
The chieftain shook his head, wondering a bit dazedly if Khaldun taught Rick O'Connell how to do that. Then Khaldun was screaming in rage, "YOU BASTARD! You have her smell all over you! You found her again, you found that little bitch! I will rip your heart out, and then I will rip out hers!" But as Khaldun reached down, Ardeth kicked out, one gray riding boot catching Khaldun solidly in the chest.  
  
Ardeth bounded quickly to his feet, his body assuming the defensive stance automatically, and he growled, "I. . .think. . .not!" Khaldun rushed him again, and Ardeth moved swiftly out of the way, adding, "I will never allow you to harm her again! The memories of your host body should tell you that!" This time, Khaldun took a blind swing, and Ardeth caught his fist with his open palm, then he backhanded Khaldun, sending him sprawling. Khaldun was never as good a fighter as any of the magic circle, and he was in a body with no battle experience at all. Ardeth would beware of cheating. That was Khaldun's only talent.  
  
"I will kill you, Ardeth Bey! I will kill you slowly, and that little bitch will watch! Oh gods, I can smell her on you! I could always smell her on you, and she should have been mine! But oh no, the great prince Rameses had to have her!" Khaldun spat from his position on the ground. Ardeth didn't allow his guard to drop. Partly because it would end with his death, and partly because he knew from the distant memories of Rameses, slowly pushing forward, that Khaldun only desired Lady Ardath because she belonged to Rameses. And. . .  
  
"She was with a man who deserved her more than you ever could," Ardeth fired back, dodging another clumsy rush, "you would have hurt her, because you enjoyed causing pain and because she humiliated you. Do you think Rameses did not know, that it was your man who pushed his beloved and caused her to lose their daughter? He knew! He knew, and it took Imhotep, Terumun, and Nassor to keep him from killing you!"  
  
Khaldun screamed in rage and bolted forward, this time tackling Ardeth. But instead of fighting it, Ardeth allowed himself to fall, even as he gasped at the pain in his ribs. However, that punch was the last one Khaldun would get in. Using the momentum he had in falling, Ardeth propelled his legs from the ground, sending Khaldun flying. He hit hard against the stone pillar opposite the one he threw Ardeth into.  
  
The chieftain slowly got to his feet, his hand going automatically to the medicine bag which hung around his neck. He rasped out, totally unaware that his scars from his battle with the Mummy Warrior in London were now visible, "I told you, you will never be able to harm her again; her, or anyone else. I know not what your plans are. But I will tell you this. So long as I draw breath, you will not pass these walls."  
  
Unexpectedly, Khaldun began to laugh once more and Ardeth looked around warily. What trickery was he up to now? He couldn't help the unease that made his heart skip a beat. The thing inhabiting Jason Ferguson's body observed, "I see that you have been touched with evil, Ardeth Bey." As he spoke, he closed his eyes and Ardeth felt those scars burning. His chest, his arms, his wounded shoulder. Ardeth forced the burning out of his mind, forced himself to focus only on this threat to his people and to the woman whom he loved.  
  
"Oh, you fight me so hard! I must admit, you are stronger than Rameses. Much stronger. But then, you would not have the rank you do, among the Med-jai, if you were not. I always had respect for the Med-jai, which is why I enjoyed corrupting Hamadi Bey so much. You know, of course, that the hom-dai was my idea. I whispered it to Hamadi, and he listened. He was already angry. He failed to protect your precious Ardath, and now the Pharaoh was dead by the hand of his worthless whore," Khaldun hissed.  
  
The burning gave way to pain, and still Ardeth fought. He survived worse wounds before. He almost died several times before he even became chieftain, he did not know how to give up. And this time, the stakes were much, much higher. This time, he had a woman who awaited him. Celia. Focus on Celia. Focus on her smile, on the way she held his hand during his mother's stories the previous night. Focus on her voice, on her lips. The pain was excruciating, and the world began to dim at the edges. But still he fought.  
  
Khaldun said, as if from far away, "You are valiant, Med-jai. I will give you that. But in the end, you are doomed. You are losing consciousness. And as hard as you fight, you cannot prevent yourself from surrendering to the oblivion. You are just a man, Ardeth Bey, and that will be your doom. For once you lose consciousness, you will be mine, and so will your precious Celia."  
  
Ardeth tried to cry out, to scream in denial. But his exhausted, pain-riddled body could handle no more. Slowly, black waters closed over his head and he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. He never heard Khaldun's laugh of delight and triumph. Did not see Jason Ferguson's body slump to the ground. Did not feel Khaldun trade that body for his own. Ardeth Bey was no longer aware of anything except that blackness.  
  
. . .  
  
*NIYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!*  
  
The scream of pain and rage and fear ripped through In-Between as Anck-su-namun saw that vile creature cheat. She would have lunged forward, into the world of the mortals, but Mathayus caught her around the waist. They both saw Ardeth's soul, still bright within his body despite Khaldun's trickery. And Mathayus whispered, *There is nothing we can do. Nothing is lost, though Khaldun thinks he has won.*  
  
Thinks? Anck looked at her companion, who continued, *Though unconscious, Ardeth still fights Khaldun. The lesser prince will not remain in control for long. Do you remember the favor which Celia granted to her love and champion?* Anck thought back to the kisses on the cliff top, then nodded slowly. Mathayus explained, *It is fulfilling its intended purpose, the protection of Ardeth's soul. Even now, Khaldun is being led toward Ardeth's salvation.*  
  
Anck looked into the pool, and realized what Mathayus meant. Ardeth's body, currently housing his own soul and Khaldun's, was mechanically making its way toward the exit of the city. Ardeth was fighting Khaldun every step of the way. And as he got on his horse, Anck was astonished to realize that he was heading not for the Med-jai encampment, but for Cairo. She looked at Mathayus, who said softly, *I told you. He is being led toward Ardeth's salvation.*  
  
*Or Celia's doom,* Anck replied bitterly, and Mathayus shook his head, smiling. As if there was something he knew, and she did not. When she stopped and thought about it, though, there was a lot which he knew. Which was why she asked, *Why do you smile like that?*  
  
*You forget, time passes much differently here. In the last few moments, more than a day has passed. Ardeth was unconscious for several hours. It took those hours for Khaldun to gain control of his muscles. He fights him every step of the way, as I already told you. And in Cairo, Celia is protected by the four Med-jai, as well as O'Connell. And they will know there is something not right,* Mathayus answered.  
  
*But would not the Med-jai people know it as well?* Anck asked in confusion. Then she realized what she was saying. The Med-jai would not take any chances; if they had to kill their chieftain, in order to drive the evil from his body, they would do so. There was no other choice. Anck repeated, *What are you trying to tell me, Mathayus? There is something very important about Cairo which you are not telling me.*  
  
*Cairo is not important at the moment. When it is time to see what comes next, then we will see. But for now, there is something else which requires your attention. Watch,* Mathayus said, waving his hand over the pool. The picture changed, now revealing a very familiar sight. Imhotep, or rather his murdered double, lay in state at the ruins of Thebes, his hands resting at his sides.  
  
Mathayus intoned, *You are not the only one who has a second chance. The spells to awaken the victim of the hom-dai were found in more than one Book. Guilt-ridden by his inability to prevent the hom-dai from being cast, Terumun copied those spells which cast the hom-dai, which awakened the victim, and which would break the hom-dai. It was his hope that the evil done that day could be undone.*  
  
He paused as the men surrounding the man who was not Imhotep began to chant the spell which would bring Imhotep back into the world, drawing his tortured spirit from the Underworld and back into the body which they stole for him. Anck's breath caught in her throat as she listened, and if she could have, she would have shivered. She had a vague memory of hearing those words chanted over her once, twice, three times.  
  
And now, it began once more. A black shape burst forth from the sands of Thebes before diving into Imhotep. No, he was not Imhotep. He was a Dutch businessman who resembled Imhotep; and now, the soul of the ancient priest inhabited that body. His chest heaved as he took a breath, and his brown eyes flew open. Anck cringed in sympathy, remembering her own difficulty in breathing, her disorientation, then her joy when she saw Imhotep.  
  
But there was no joy in this man, for he saw only strangers. They bowed down to him, telling him that they were his servants, men who were held in reserve. They were here to make sure he received his just revenge against the Med-jai. He needed to regain his strength, for his powers would be needed. Anck shivered again, fearing suddenly for her forever friend. She knew these men to serve Lock-nah. . .  
  
*They also serve Khaldun,* Mathayus said simply. Anck's hand flew to her mouth as she watched Imhotep reorient himself. He asked how much time passed since he was betrayed, and Anck flinched at the reminder.  
  
When told only three and a half months passed since the destruction of Ahm Shere, his next question gave Anck hope. He asked these men why he should take revenge on the Med-jai and the O'Connells. It was then that Anck's rage truly burst free, for it was then that she finally saw the true colors of both Hafez and Lock-nah. Imhotep was told that the O'Connells kidnapped a child, the reincarnation of Rameses' lost daughter.  
  
She looked at Mathayus, and he said softly, *No. Miranda is not the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's daughter Miriam. Her soul is far too young to be Miriam. But that matters not, for Imhotep's memories are jumbled. And he will see this as a way to atone for his failure to save Miriam.* Anck swallowed hard, and Mathayus put his hand on her shoulder, saying, *Be not afraid, Anck, for Khaldun is paving the way to his own destruction. You know that Imhotep will not allow himself to be used.*  
  
Hope once more began to peek through. Anck whispered, *That is why you keep telling me not to despair. No matter how bad things look, there is always hope.* Mathayus inclined his head. Anck sighed deeply. If only she knew that three thousand years earlier. Things might have been so different! Yes, Mathayus told her that things played out for a reason, because they were meant to. She still wished she realized several things many years earlier. She could have avoided so much hurt, for so many, if she simply thought before she acted, instead of reacting.  
  
*Just so, dear child, just so. Things look grim now, but there is always hope. That should have been the greatest lesson you learned from your forever friend. Ardath never lost hope, did she?* Mathayus asked quietly. Anck stopped and thought about it. She realized he was right. There was only one time when she despaired, and that was after Miriam died. Not even when she herself was dying did Ardath lose hope. She swore to Rameses that she would find him again. And she carried out that promise.  
  
*There is nothing I can do for Imhotep, or Ardeth Bey. What can I do for Celia?* Anck asked as the picture changed once more, to show both Ardeth's progress toward Cairo, and Celia's arrival back in the O'Connell house. She swallowed the lump in her throat, as Evelyn O'Connell wrapped her arms around Celia from behind, offering her own strength to the worried young woman. **Comfort her for me, Nefertiri,** Anck thought.  
  
*Simply watch over her, Anck-su-namun. There is nothing more you can do. Just give willingly of your strength and your love. You cannot face what comes for her, you can only love her and be strong for her,* Mathayus answered. Not the answer she wanted to hear, but it was the one she had to accept. She. . .oh gods! What was wrong with him? Anck's eyes flew from Celia to Ardeth, who doubled over in his saddle, before falling from his horse entirely.  
  
*Ardeth is fighting Khaldun again. . .excellent! The more he fights Khaldun, the weaker Khaldun becomes. You see, Ardeth could not prevent himself from losing consciousness, therefore, he could not protect his body from Khaldun. However. He still fights Khaldun, so he has not lost hope. There is some desperation, yes, he fears for Celia, and rightly so. But he will not yield to despair. Khaldun will not have his soul,* Mathayus explained.  
  
A long, anguished moan broke free of the man on the ground, but the voice was not Ardeth's. If she closed her eyes and focused, Anck could feel the pain now tearing through Khaldun as Ardeth fought for control of his own body. The same pain she fought when Meela took over just long enough to stab the reincarnation of Nefertiri and wave mockingly to Nefertiri's small son.  
  
A second moan tore through the desert night, and Khaldun, still in Ardeth's body, curled into a little ball. Mathayus whispered, *Each time he forces Khaldun to stop, Ardeth buys a little more time for O'Connell and the Med-jai in Egypt. As I said, things are far from lost, my dear Anck-su- namun.* Yes. She could see that. But in spite of herself, she slowly allowed her guard to drop where this particular Med-jai was concerned, and every scream drove a knife into her heart. Anck prayed that he would soon be free once more.  
  
. . .  
  
Rick paced, sighing occasionally. They arrived back in Cairo the previous evening, and he couldn't shake the annoying feeling that something was wrong. Why, he didn't know. Ardeth said that he wouldn't join them for at least a week. But something was wrong. He could feel it. Just as he could feel that the problem was with Ardeth somehow. Which was ludicrous, of course. He was a grown man, and perfectly able to take care of himself.  
  
Hell, he took care of his people and Rick's family even when he was half dead. There was no reason to worry about him. Was there? Turning to pace in the other direction, Rick jumped when he saw his wife standing in his path. He blinked and Evy said quietly, "You're worried about Ardeth, too, aren't you?" Rick started to deny it, but Evy continued in that 'I know better' voice, "You are. Celia insists there's something wrong, and I feel it, too."  
  
Celia? Evy continued with a sigh, "She's staring out into the backyard, where Ardeth taught her to fight. I put my arms around her just now, from behind, and she didn't even jump. She's worried sick about him, Rick, and I don't blame her. This is Khaldun we're talking about. At least Imhotep fought fairly, more or less!" Rick just stared at his wife in astonishment. Imhotep? Fight fair? Was she serious?  
  
Evy stamped her foot in annoyance, blurting, "OOOH! Rick, for all that Imhotep did to us, he would have never killed an innocent woman just to hurt the man who loved her. He did have a sense of fair play, and a sense of honor. Khaldun had neither! He killed Lady Ardath, and he also killed her daughter. We just happened to get in Imhotep's way, there is a large difference between them!"  
  
"Whatever you say, honey," Rick answered, shaking his head. He almost lost his wife and son to that bastard, there was no way he could be convinced there was anything good about that man. A mocking voice which was his and not his at the same time observed in the back of his mind, //is this not the same criteria by which you judge Ardeth Bey? Because he saved your wife, almost dying himself, it is his fault that she was in danger in the first place?//  
  
Rick turned away from his wife, barely hearing her assertion that she would check on Miranda. He turned away not in anger, but in shame, for he did just that so many times. The second time they met Ardeth, and when they actually learned his name, Evy unwittingly released a spirit which tried to claim her life. Ardeth heard about the foreigners and came out to investigate.  
  
The spirit, angered when it could not take Evy, took a Med-jai instead, a man who accompanied Ardeth during his investigation, and the spirit turned his weapon against Evy. Ardeth put himself between Evy and his man, just as the trigger was pulled. Rick heard the gun shot, and ran to investigate. When he arrived, it was to find his fiancée cradling a familiar, black-clad form.  
  
Rick knew he would never truly be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But at that moment, he only saw a Med-jai holding a still smoking gun, and a Med-jai in his fiancée's arms. Rick tore the half conscious, bleeding Ardeth from Evy's arms and slammed him into the wall. He was unprepared for Ardeth to faint dead away in his arms, or for Evy to attack him, screaming at him to leave their new friend alone.  
  
Stunned by her attack, Rick released Ardeth, and the Med-jai collapsed. Evy caught him and held him, whispering, "It will be all right, I won't let him hurt you again. He saved my life, Rick! He saved my life, you had no right to do that! None at all!" Rick finally took notice of the bullet wound in Ardeth's left shoulder and fell to his knees, sick with guilt. The shot would have killed Evy, if it struck home. As it was, they would be lucky to save Ardeth if infection set in.  
  
Over the next few days, as a sandstorm ravaged the ruins, Rick and Evy cared for their Med-jai friend, cleaning his wound and removing the bullet. The Med-jai who pulled the trigger gained a moment of clarity, when he had control over his body. And when he saw what he did, he took his own life, unable to handle the guilt and shame of shooting his chieftain. It was thus that they learned that the warrior who aided them wasn't merely a Med-jai, but the leader of the desert tribe. Or, as they learned since, tribes.  
  
During one of Ardeth's lucid periods, when the fever relaxed its grip on him, he made an observation which told his two caretakers that he was their own age. He was seventeen when he took over leadership of the Med- jai, around the same time as the entry of the Americans into the Great War. Rick realized with a shock that meant the warrior was only twenty-six years old at the time of Imhotep's rising. He seemed much older during that first meeting.  
  
"Have you enjoyed your trip down Memory Lane, my friend?" a familiar voice asked, pulling Rick from his reverie. The American looked up to find Ardeth Bey standing there. But there was something very, very wrong. Rick didn't answer, and a smile appeared. But it wasn't Ardeth's smile, any of his smiles. It was cold and cruel. And for all that Ardeth could be harsh, he was not a cruel man. Not someone who enjoyed causing pain.  
  
He wanted to ask what was done to his friend, but the man in front of him continued, "I must admit, Ardeth Bey is much stronger than his previous incarnation. Still not strong enough to fight me and win, but a most valiant effort was made to protect his precious lady." Now Rick's blood ran cold. He was starting to realize whom this was, but didn't want to believe that his friend was lost to him.  
  
"Oh, surely you remember me, Terumun. You and my dear cousin were among those who tortured me. Though I admit, I am surprised by your concern for Ardeth Bey. You make a very convincing argument that you care nothing for him. Even now, he tells me that I will not get what I wish from you. You care only for your wife and son, is that right? What a pity. I truly hoped I would have the pleasure of torturing Ardeth in front of someone who cared for him. But you. . .you will have your purpose as well," the thing hissed.  
  
Rick knew for certain this man wasn't Ardeth. . .oh, it was his body. But his body was driven by Khaldun's spirit. But before he had a chance to process that, he found himself flying across the room, with just a wave of the hand belonging to Ardeth Bey. Rick hit the bookcase hard, and prayed none of the women would investigate what they were hearing. He pushed himself to his feet, saying, "Ardeth knows I care for him."  
  
And again, he was airborne, only this time, he hit the opposite bookcase, face first, and a voice directly behind his ear rasped, "You think so, do you? Why should he believe that? I can see his memories, Rick O'Connell. I can feel the pain in his already aching body when you slammed him into the pillar of stone outside your home. Did no one ever tell you how rude it is to attack someone who just saved your son's life, who attempted to protect your meddling wife?"  
  
He was spun around, and Rick steeled himself to see Khaldun, rather than Ardeth. It worked, and Rick drove his fist hard into his attacker's midsection. Khaldun doubled over briefly, then gave a growl of rage and pain. He grabbed Rick's throat, slamming him hard into the wall a second time. But Rick didn't care, for he saw a flash of pain, and sensed Ardeth fighting desperately to take back control of his body.  
  
Through the haze of pain and dizziness, as Khaldun cut off his oxygen, Rick saw something. Khaldun leaned in forward as if he intended to kiss Rick. Ugh. Over Rick's dead, lifeless body! If pushed (by his wife), Rick could admit that he did love Ardeth. But not like that! Khaldun whispered, his eyes dark with madness, "I do not know whether I should punish Ardeth Bey for what you just did, or you. What do you think, Rick O'Connell? Should I punish the Med-jai, your brother in arms, for your arrogance? No, you do that enough. You punish him for being stupid enough to care about what happens to you and your family."  
  
Khaldun's grip tightened around Rick's throat, and now Rick was sure he saw something behind the thing wearing his friend's face. But Khaldun was totally unaware, as he continued, "Yes, he should have let your wife and brat die. I would have been free so much sooner! I could have drawn upon the rage and the pain of those who died at Hamunaptra, and I would have lived forever with the despair it caused!"  
  
Rick felt his world go white with blinding rage. And now, he understood Evy's assertion that Imhotep was a better man than Khaldun. He rasped out, "Yeah? Well, you just proved one thing to me, Khaldun old buddy." Dark brows raised, and Rick hissed, "You ain't nothing! You were nothing three thousand years ago, and you're nothing now. And you sure as hell don't deserve to be breathing the same air as Ardeth Bey, much less inhabiting his body!"  
  
A young, determined voice cried out, "I couldn't agree more!" Then there was the sound of something shattering, and Rick was free. He slid down the bookcase as Ardeth's body collapsed against him. Rick closed his arms around his friend protectively, his blue eyes flying to the ceiling as a cry of anguish and rage exploded from a black thing hovering over them all. His unlikely rescuer cried out, "I reject you, Khaldun! I command you, in the names of Isis and Horus, to release all claim on Ardeth Bey! Begone, evil one!"  
  
The black cloud dispersed with another cry and Celia Ferguson looked down at the remnants of a large vase Evy purchased at the bazaar only weeks earlier. She looked next at Ardeth, still cradled protectively against Rick's chest and said weakly, "Evy's gonna kill me for that." She fell to her knees in front of them, closing her eyes, and added, "I just didn't know what else to do." Rick freed one hand to put it on Celia's knee. She did the only thing she could. Evy would see that. He hoped.  
  
. . .  
  
Evy O'Connell was furious, but not with her best friend or her brother. She liked the vase, but she loved Ardeth. And if breaking that thing over his head was their best chance to save him, then it was well worth the price. No, Evy O'Connell was angry with Khaldun. He violated one of the people whom Evy loved most in the world, and he forced Celia to strike the man she loved.  
  
Those two sins were not things she would forgive any time soon. Even as Ardeth lay unconscious on the davenport, Evy silently swore to finish what Rameses, Imhotep and the others started three thousand years earlier. She gently bathed Ardeth's face, anxiously noting that he was still unconscious after three hours. The vase connected in the same place the club struck Ardeth, but there was more to it than that. Worse yet, Celia stayed far away from him. Evy could clearly read the guilt on her friend's face, and it didn't seem to matter what they said.  
  
"I really don't think there's anything to worry about, honey," Rick said quietly. Evy didn't look up from what she was doing. Many times, she felt guilty for her family's tendency to endanger Ardeth's life, but nothing like she felt now. They should have never allowed him to face Khaldun alone. They knew that monster wanted revenge on Rameses, and for once, they should have stayed united. Hadn't they learned yet that they were stronger together than apart?  
  
Apparently not. Rick tried again, saying, "Listen, I could see Ardeth in there, fighting. He must be exhausted from fighting Khaldun the last few days." Well, yes. Evy could believe that. But still, she washed Ardeth's face and watched any sign that he was waking up. She combed his black hair back from his eyes, then leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead as if he was no more than Alex's age.  
  
"I'll feel better when he wakes up, and I know for certain that it's our Ardeth. And Celia feels the same way, the poor girl. Oh, Rick, it's as if someone wants to make sure we never take Ardeth for granted again. He's been hurt so often during the last few months, and part of that was due to us. You told me once that you'd never forgive yourself if something happened to me or Alex, that we were the only things that mattered in the world to you," Evy said.  
  
Rick remembered that conversation clearly, it seemed, and Evy continued, "I won't say that Ardeth is the only person in the world who matters to me. But I will say that I'll never forgive myself if we end up costing him his life. Especially since he's risked so much to help us over the years. All I want. . .I just want to give back to him, what he's given to us so many times. Another chance. Especially now! He's in love with a wonderful young woman, who is in love with him. I won't let Khaldun ruin that!"  
  
"He's still unconscious?" a soft voice inquired and Evy looked around to find Jonathan leaning against the banister. He helped to carry Ardeth to the davenport, when he and Evy ran into the sitting room to investigate the crashing sound they heard. The siblings found an unconscious Ardeth cradled against Rick, and Celia on her knees in front of them, all three surrounded by pieces of the vase Evy bought a few weeks earlier.  
  
While Rick and Jonathan tended to Ardeth, Evy gently steered Celia to an overstuffed chair before the American woman could fall down. From Celia, Evy heard the entire story, culminating in Celia bashing Ardeth over the head with the vase, and it distracted them from the examination conducted by the men. It did that until Rick growled, "If I ever get my hands on Khaldun, the hom-dai's gonna look like nothing compared to what I'll do to him!"  
  
At first, Evy was grateful that Ardeth was unconscious through the examination. He would have been *so* terribly embarrassed, especially since there were women in the room. But as the hours passed, and Ardeth remained unconscious, she grew concerned. Jonathan asked, "I say, I almost hate to bring this up. But when do you think was the last time he ate?" Evy was about to berate her brother for speaking of food, when she stopped and thought about it.  
  
"That would explain a lot. In addition to whatever Khaldun did to him, the knock on his head, and the exhaustion, I'll bet he hasn't eaten in days. Evy, we've been back since yesterday, and we left the Med-jai camp two days before that. If Ardeth confronted Khaldun the same day, then it's possible he hasn't eaten in at least two days, honey, and maybe even three. His body is fresh out of reserves," Rick observed. Evy looked back at Ardeth.  
  
She didn't know if she would say he was fresh out of reserves. But if Rick was right, and there was no reason to think he wasn't, then it would explain a lot. Well. Like her husband, Evy always was at her best when she had a focus, a purpose. She rose to her feet and said, "I will find something light for him to eat, we don't want him getting sick after all. Rick, please stay with him. Jonathan, is Alex still with Miranda?"  
  
When her brother nodded, Evy continued, "Then I'd like to see if you can do anything for Celia." Evy noticed a bond strengthening between her older brother and Celia during the last few days, and while it intrigued her, she could wait to find out the reason for it. Jonathan nodded, and headed outside to where Celia retreated after explaining what happened to Ardeth. Before she started something, perhaps soup, for Ardeth, Evy wanted to check on the children.  
  
Trusting Rick to look after their friend, Evy raced lightly up the stairs. She found Alex once more telling Miranda stories. While the children didn't know what happened, Miranda sensed something was terribly wrong. Hmm. That was an idea. She would have to pass that along to Jonathan. Celia shut everyone else out, maybe it was time to remind her that she couldn't shut out her little girl.  
  
She was getting ready to leave, when Miranda caught sight of her, and whispered, "Is Mommy okay, Aunt Evy?" Evelyn melted at the fear in the little girl's voice, and came back into the room. She held her arms out to Miranda, who was napping at the time of the incident, and the little girl flew right into the open arms, connecting solidly with Evy's chest. The Englishwoman sat down with the little girl.  
  
"Your mum is just fine, sweetheart. Something happened while you were asleep, and it upset your mum a lot. She need some time to calm down," Evy replied. Now she understood why Celia retreated within herself. How, exactly, did she explain to a four year old girl that her mother coshed a man with a vase to drive out an evil spirit? Especially when that man was loved by both mother and daughter? How could Celia explain to her daughter what happened, when she was still struggling to come to terms with it herself?  
  
"Something happened to Ardeth," Alex said with certainty, and Evy looked up at her son quickly. The boy continued, "I heard that Miranda's mum yelling something about leaving Ardeth alone. Was it like when Meela stabbed you, Mum?" Evy's mind raced as she tried to figure out what Alex meant. But in the end, she just accepted the explanation her son just gave to her, without even realizing it.  
  
"Exactly, darling. You see, Miranda, a very bad man brought Ardeth to the house and was holding him hostage. He wanted to use Ardeth to hurt us, and your mum stopped him. But she was very upset, because she hurt him and he hurt Ardeth at the same time. Your mum doesn't like to hurt people, not even when she has to. And she feels very guilty because Ardeth was hurt," Evy explained.  
  
"Oh, like when I'm bad. I try not to be, 'cause Uncle Jason's bad all the time. But some times, I'm bad, and Mommy's gotta discipline me, and it hurts her? She sometimes cries. And I don't wanna be bad no more, 'cause I don't like it when Mommy cries," Miranda asked. Evy thought about that, then nodded, realizing that was the best they could do. Miranda added, "Will you take me to Mommy, Aunt Evy, so I can make her feel better?"  
  
"Well, I don't think she's ready to feel better yet. I think she still feels too guilty for Ardeth being hurt. But, if you want to help, you can help me make some soup for Ardeth. How does that sound?" Evy asked, and Miranda nodded eagerly. Evy looked at Alex, asking, "Would you like to check on Ardeth?" This time, it was Alex's turn to nod eagerly, and Evy continued, "Well, then we have work to do!"  
  
. . .  
  
He was drawn toward brightness, which slowly cleared away the nothingness into which Ardeth Bey fell after Khaldun's attack in Hamunaptra. And he was drawn forth by a soft voice, a woman's voice. If he concentrated, perhaps he could figure out to whom the voice belonged and what she wanted. Ardeth concentrated on that, and slowly, he could make out words.  
  
"Come, proud warrior, your fight is not done. My granddaughter has found a man worthy of her love, I'll not allow you to break her heart now. Ardeth Bey, Celia needs you," the woman said. Celia. Celia needed him. Did he fail, did Celia fall victim to that monster? Now he could make out the outline of the woman as he drew ever closer, then her face. She smiled and asked, "Is that better? Are you satisfied that you are not succumbing to a demon?"  
  
Ardeth inclined his head in acknowledgment and apology, and the woman continued, "There is no need to apologize to me. You have been violated, as no man or woman should ever be violated. You do not trust easily, and that has kept you alive. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Annabelle, mother of Madeleine, grandmother of Celia and Jason, great-grandmother of Miranda. You may call me 'Grandma,' since you will be my grandson."  
  
Ardeth just blinked at the strange woman, trying to figure out whether he lost his mind, or if she lost hers, since she didn't look any older than eighteen or nineteen. Or maybe he was sane, but dead. The woman looked down at herself and added, "On second thought, maybe you should call me 'Annabelle,' since I don't look like anyone's grandmother, and I don't want you questioning your sanity or your continued existence."  
  
This time, Ardeth inclined his head in acceptance, and Annabelle continued, "You have become one of mine, not just because of your love for my granddaughter, but because Celia gave you the remembrance pouch which I left for her. That's why you have only seen blackness, and why Khaldun was incapable of taking you and keeping you. I gave you my strength to fight him during the last few days."  
  
Days? Iciness spread through Ardeth's body. What did he do in those days? Annabelle continued before he could ask, saying, "No one is dead, and you're the only one who has been seriously hurt. Well, aside from the Med-jai whom that nasty piece of work Khaldun killed inside Hamunaptra, but that's hardly your fault. I want you to listen to me, son. You need to wake up. Right now. You're driving that sweet girl Evy absolutely insane with worry, and my girl Celia is having a very hard time forgiving herself. You need to wake up, Ardeth."  
  
Ardeth started to ask her a question, then moaned as pain exploded in his head. Not this again. Brightness overwhelmed him, then he heard a very different voice asking, "Ardeth? Can you hear me? C'mon, buddy, I need you to wake up." O'Connell? There was something about O'Connell, something important. Ardeth fuzzily reached for it, to find his hand captured and held by two big hands.  
  
He forced his eyes open, to see Rick O'Connell leaning over him, his eyes bright with worry. The worry dissipated as his old friend smiled, and O'Connell said softly, "Well, it's about time you opened your eyes, you were starting to scare us. How do you feel?" Ardeth tried to catalogue where all he hurt. If he was truly honest with himself and with O'Connell, there wasn't a part of his body that didn't hurt right now.  
  
"Awful," Ardeth answered bluntly, not having the energy to deny just how badly he felt. His head ached, his ribs hurt, and as he shifted on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable, a spasm of pain tore through his abdomen. Ardeth gasped, curling into a ball as he tried desperately to breathe. By the gods, what hit him? O'Connell grasped his shoulders, whispering something which Ardeth couldn't understand.  
  
At last, the pain eased and O'Connell muttered, "I'm sorry, Ardeth, that's my fault." Ardeth barely paid attention; he was just relieved to have survived whatever happened to him.  
  
His confusion was stronger than anything else at this moment, and he didn't care who had done what to him. He asked hoarsely, remembering the blackness and Khaldun's attack, "What did I do? Whom did I hurt?" He slowly forced his legs to relax, then returned his eyes to O'Connell. Curiously, the American was having a hard time meeting his eyes, but Ardeth was in too much pain to really think about that.  
  
"You didn't do anything wrong, buddy, and you didn't hurt anybody," O'Connell answered. He didn't hurt anyone, that was good to know. So why did he have the feeling that O'Connell wasn't leveling with him? Ardeth took a deep breath, then released it. He felt as he did a few months earlier, when Jonathan's sharp turn slammed him into the bus window and away from the Mummy Warrior.  
  
"You did not answer my question, O'Connell. Khaldun took control of me. I remember that. I remember nothing after. Nothing until I heard your voice just now. What did I do while that thing had control of me?" Ardeth asked hoarsely. Then something occurred to him, and he bolted upright, ignoring the fire in his head, chest, and the rest of his body. He gasped, "Celia! Did I hurt Celia?"  
  
"Celia? No! No, no, no, no! Celia is fine. Look, yes, that bastard gave us all a scare, but you didn't hurt anyone. The only one who was hurt was you. . .okay? Now just relax, or Evy is gonna kick my ass," O'Connell replied. He continued to gently push Ardeth back against the pillows. The Med-jai had no strength and he lay back, closing his eyes. He had no doubt that the American could push him back every time he tried to get up.  
  
Once he was satisfied that Ardeth would remain in a reclining position, O'Connell continued, "Now, if you'll lay here like a good little Med-jai chieftain, I'll go see if Evy's finished with your soup. We figure you haven't eaten in a few days, and you've used a lot of energy, fighting against Khaldun's possession. You need to eat, and you need to rest." Ardeth opened his eyes, glaring at O'Connell for all he was worth. That was when he noticed it.  
  
"If that is true, O'Connell, then how did you get those bruises on your neck?" the Med-jai asked. For the moment, he would ignore the reference to him being 'little.' He was only somewhat shorter than O'Connell, no more than an inch or an inch and a half. O'Connell raised his hand to his throat, a slightly panicked look appearing in his blue eyes, and with the other man distracted, Ardeth once more tried to get up.  
  
"Stay. . .put!" O'Connell growled. He put both hands on Ardeth's shoulders and physically pushed him back against the pillows once more. Flashing blue eyes met defiant brown, and O'Connell glowered down at him, his hands still gripping Ardeth's shoulders. He continued, "You didn't do this! That was Khaldun! Okay? And the reason you have a headache is because Celia decided to drive Khaldun out of you, using Evy's new vase, the big one."  
  
Evy's big vase? The one she bought a few weeks earlier? No wonder his head felt like this! Ardeth sighed, closing his eyes until O'Connell released his shoulders. Once his head stopped spinning, Ardeth tested the strength of his body. Satisfied with his ability to walk on his own, he surged up a third time. He wanted to lie on something other than this bloody davenport and he desperately needed a bath. O'Connell yelped and grabbed his shoulders, shoving him back down a third time. This time, he didn't let go, pinning Ardeth to the pillows, as he snarled, "Goddammit, Ardeth, either you stay put, or I swear I will kick your ass clear to Karnak!"  
  
"RICHARD O'CONNELL! You will do no such thing! Release him immediately!" came Evy's familiar, incensed voice. Ardeth was released as O'Connell spun to face his wife. Ardeth closed his eyes and leaned back his head as Evy spent the next five minutes berating her husband. During that time, the only words he heard from O'Connell were, 'yes, dear. Of course, honey. I'll run a bath for him immediately.' Then feet tromping upstairs, as O'Connell still muttered under his breath about a certain stubborn Med-jai and stubborn wives.  
  
"You can open your eyes, Ardeth, he's gone. I'm guessing you were trying to get up for a bath?" Evy asked softly. Ardeth opened his eyes and nodded sheepishly. He was filthy, in more ways than one. Evy continued, "He'll run a bath for you while you're eating. I'll have Jonathan fix up one of the spare bedrooms for you. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable there than on this uncomfortable davenport."  
  
"Thank you, Evelyn, I must apologize. It was not. . . Tell me honestly, Evelyn. Did I hurt anyone?" Ardeth asked as Evy situated the tray of food across his lap. The Englishwoman looked at him compassionately and shook her head as she handed him a washcloth to clean his hands before eating. Ardeth smiled at her thoughtfulness, then accepted the spoon once his hands were reasonably clean.  
  
"No, dear heart, you did not. While you were unconscious, Kaphiri sent out a message to the Med-jai, questioning what happened after you left for Hamunaptra. We were all frightened, but we were frightened *for* you, not *of* you. Now. I want you to eat, and then get some rest. That will be the best medicine Celia could have," Evy replied. Ardeth looked at the kitchen door, sensing that Celia was in the back. Evy was silent for a long moment, then she asked, "Well. I suppose the bath and bed could wait, until you had a word with Celia?"  
  
Ardeth returned his eyes to her face, giving her a grateful smile, and Evy touched his cheek gently. She smiled back at him, her eyes warm with her obvious love for him. And that was when he understood. Nefertiri was Rameses' sister, until now, that part never occurred to him. In the days since he remembered being Rameses, that wasn't something that really struck home for him.  
  
He whispered, wanting her to know that he remembered, "Shukran, Evy. Shukran, sughayyar ukht." He saw tears well up at his acknowledgement as his little sister. But her smile grew brighter, and she kissed his cheek, then she rose to her feet. He knew, without further conversation, that Evy would retrieve Celia. He was still regaining his strength, so she would bring Celia to him. Ardeth drank down the soup, trying to figure what to say to his beloved when she returned to his side once more. 


	17. Up to His Old Tricks Again

Part Sixteen  
  
"He's awake."  
  
Celia turned away from her surveillance of the backyard, to look at Evy. The other woman smiled and continued, "He's awake and asking for you. We realized it wasn't just the head injury causing his prolonged unconsciousness. It was a combination of exhaustion and starvation. He hasn't eaten in three days. You didn't hurt him, Celia." Jonathan relaxed where he was watching over Celia, then slipped inside.  
  
Some of the tension slipped from her at those words. She whispered, "I was so afraid I killed him. I. . ." She shook her head, closing her eyes as she tried to shut out the image of Ardeth collapsing against Rick. Celia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a tear slide down her cheek, then felt two arms wrap around her. The American gasped, "I saw him with Rick against the wall, his hands around his throat, and I knew. . .I knew it wasn't Ardeth."  
  
Evy didn't answer, and Celia continued, barely holding back her tears, "I didn't know what to do. It wasn't until Jonathan said something to me a minute ago, about Khaldun's scream of pain, that I realized. Khaldun can't tolerate pain. But I didn't know that at the time, I just knew I had to stop him from killing Rick, because if I didn't. . . So I picked up that vase you like so well, and I. . . Rick told him that he didn't deserve to breathe the same air as Ardeth, much less inhabit the same body, and that's when I hit him. I thought I'd killed him, Evy."  
  
Her friend hugged her again, whispering, "But you didn't. Ardeth is too strong to let a bash on the head kill him." Celia opened her eyes, a little giggle escaping at the same time. Evy added with an impish grin, "If scratches from Mummy Warriors, and two airborne crashes with my family can't kill him, then a silly little vase will certainly not succeed where Imhotep has failed. Twice!" Now Celia couldn't help but laugh, as she realized that Evy had a point. But she also knew everyone had a breaking point. Evy continued, "So. You are going inside, and reassure your daughter that everything is fine, then you'll let Ardeth reassure you that he's fine."  
  
Miranda. Celia closed her eyes once again, realizing that she truly failed her daughter this time. She said softly, opening her eyes, "My poor baby. I just. . .I couldn't face her. I was having a hard enough time, facing myself. I didn't know how to face her, and tell her that I hurt Ardeth." Evy cupped her face in her hands, brown eyes boring into hazel, her expression grew very serious.  
  
"You lost your focus. It happens. You got it back. Miranda has been helping me with Ardeth's soup. But she needs to know that everything's all right. She needs to know that you're all right. Go to her," Evy replied. Celia nodded and moved slowly into the kitchen. She was immediately hit with a small body clinging to her. Miranda was crying into her shoulder, and it took Celia a few minutes to realize that her little girl was trying to reassure *her.*  
  
Celia whispered, holding her daughter close, "I don't deserve you, 'Randa, but it looks like you're stuck with me. I'm so sorry, baby. I just didn't know how to tell you I did something which hurt Ardeth. I'm so sorry." Miranda tightened her arms around her, and Celia didn't let go, either. She whispered, "Do you want to come with me, to see about Ardeth? Evy says he wants to talk to me."  
  
Miranda nodded her head against her shoulder, whispering, "It's not your fault, Mommy. It was that bad man. He hurt Ardeth." The bad man hurt Ardeth. Celia closed her eyes, accepting this little bit of absolution from her daughter. Absolution for shutting down, just when Miranda needed her, and absolution for hurting someone they both loved so very much. Celia kissed the top of her head, then she carried her daughter into the living room.  
  
Ardeth was finishing up his soup and looked up as they entered. The look in his eyes took Celia's breath away. He held out his hand to them, and it never crossed her mind to say no. She kept one arm around Miranda and took Ardeth's hand with her free hand, allowing him to guide her to the davenport. She carefully sat down beside him, making sure she didn't upset his tray of food. He whispered, "Shukran, my love. You saved me."  
  
Celia started to speak, but Ardeth silenced her with one of her own tricks. He kissed her. When he pulled back, she stared at him, and Ardeth smiled impishly. Celia decided when she could think clearly that Ardeth's kisses were as dangerous to her thinking as his scimitar was to his enemies. He said, "Do not interrupt. You saved me, Celia. You drove out Khaldun, and gave your grandmother's bag to me. I saw her in my dreams. Annabelle, mother of Madeleine, grandmother of Celia and Jason, great- grandmother of Miranda. She told me to call her 'grandma,' though she looked no more than nineteen."  
  
Celia laughed in spite of herself, replying, "That sounds like my grandmother." She looked at him for a long moment, then whispered, "I thought I killed you, Ardeth. You just collapsed into Rick's arms, like a puppet whose strings were cut. And I. . .it's been replaying in my head, ever since it happened. And I couldn't figure out which would be more of a reason for Evy to kill me, hurting you or breaking that vase."  
  
"Hardly that. Celia. It will take more to kill me, much more. Although my smell might be enough at the moment," Ardeth admitted dryly. Celia found herself giggling, partly as a release of tension, and Ardeth grinned, saying, "Much better. I have always preferred to see your smile. I love you, Celia. I have told Mother that you will be my wife, and she has agreed to speak on your behalf to the Elders, after this is all over, of course."  
  
"Of course. I love you so much, Ardeth," Celia answered. Tears were running down her face, but she couldn't say why. While she tentatively found her way to that truth three days earlier, everything coalesced when she saw Ardeth collapse into a boneless heap. Any doubts were swept away in the rush of terror, pain, and rage. She loved this man. She would fight for him, and she would never be separated from him again in this lifetime or the next.  
  
Ardeth looked at Miranda and asked, "Is that all right with you, Miranda, if I marry your mother? May I be your papa?" Celia felt her daughter squirm excitedly in her lap, and saw her nod hard enough to make Celia dizzy. But the mother didn't need to see the daughter's face, in order to know her smile was enough to light up the entire Sahara Desert at night. Their little family complete, Celia now knew that she would allow nothing to stand in their way.  
  
Not her brother. Not Khaldun. Not even Imhotep himself. Lady Ardath and Rameses had finally been reunited, and may the goddess have mercy on the soul of anyone who tried to separate them, or harm their children. Because neither Celia nor Ardeth would. This, she knew. This, she swore. Ardeth was hers now, hers and Miranda, and she would not allow him to be taken from her again. It was a resolve that would see her well through the dark days ahead.  
  
. . .  
  
As Celia Ferguson vowed to protect that which was now hers, Imhotep, High Priest of Seti, was slowly adjusting to this new body. He ran his hand over his scalp, having hair for the first time in three thousand years. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but decided he could always remove it later. Right now, there were other things occupying his attention. Not the least of which were the men who brought him back from the Underworld.  
  
Imhotep's instincts told him that these men planned to use him, just as Hafez and Lock-nah used him. They were both fools, though, and so were these men. He did not know for what purpose he was brought back, nor did he believe the O'Connells abducted a child. They desecrated tombs, but he did not believe that they kidnapped children. And while he was still confused, he did remember very clearly that Evelyn O'Connell was Nefertiri. Why would she kidnap the reincarnation of her niece? It made no sense.  
  
But what if he was wrong? He was wrong about Anck-su-namun, and his heart still hurt from that betrayal. He owed Rameses and Ardath dearly, and he owed their daughter as well, for being unable to save her. He would find out what he could from this child, and if she proved his instincts correct, he would make the men pay for using him. Lock-nah and Hafez paid for their stupidity, as would these men.  
  
Regardless of their part in this, however, Imhotep swore to protect the little one. It gave him no enjoyment to abduct little Alex O'Connell, much less leave him in the hands of someone like Lock-nah. Imhotep did not take pleasure in causing pain. Perhaps he demonstrated triumph when he won (which, he acknowledged, was often premature), but he took no pleasure in causing pain, much less causing pain to a child.  
  
Over the next week, he accumulated data about his so-called followers. And he thought. A lot. Why, exactly, did he want to control the world? When he arose the second time, he was intoxicated by the idea of the power brought by defeating the Scorpion King. What man wouldn't? And, with the power of a god, he could love his Anck-su-namun in peace. But then she betrayed him. Everything he worked for turned to ash.  
  
For this woman, he murdered his pharaoh, once his friend. For this woman, he nearly tore apart a family, as his own family was once torn apart. He had no love for the O'Connells. But if he was truly honest with himself, how could he blame Nefertiri and her Med-jai for wanting to live, when he was robbed of life? His memories of that last, terrible day remained imprinted on his mind, but there was something different now. After two defeats at the hands of O'Connell and his wife, Imhotep realized something.  
  
He knew O'Connell in that life. He was a Med-jai, and part of the magic circle, oft mentioned by Rameses' concubine. Terumun. The voice of reason, he argued against the casting of the hom-dai. Even as he struggled in terror and pain, Imhotep rejoiced that Terumun stayed true. The man agreed that Imhotep should be punished. But not like this, not in a way which would doom their children.  
  
"Terumun," Imhotep whispered, his heart tightening as he thought about his friend. Even as the hom-dai was cast, Terumun did not betray him. That counted for something, did it not? O'Connell looked somewhat differently, though not by much. Like Lady Ardath, Terumun came from a far away land. His hair were darker in that time, but his eyes were still blue. Imhotep felt sick. Why did he never realize this before? *Because,* a voice inside his soul whispered, *you did not want to see. You have a chance, Imhotep, a chance to make everything right.*  
  
Months earlier, Imhotep would have never admitted to doing wrong. But part of his punishment in the Underworld was seeing, and experiencing, the pain he caused. He felt the anguish he caused Rameses when he betrayed their friendship. Not just once, but repeatedly. And Seti. He and Anck- su-namun hacked Seti to death, in front of Seti's own child, the child who looked so much like her mother.  
  
And now, he was being given another chance, in another body. Though the soul moved on, to a better place, Imhotep was sure. The memories remaining the body told Imhotep that the man who inhabited this body before was a good man. Like Imhotep was, once upon a time. He was being given a second chance, to make things right with everyone whom he hurt. Nefertiri. Terumun. Rameses. Nassor.  
  
He knew the identities of Terumun, Nefertiri, and Nassor in this lifetime. But there was one person missing: Rameses, Imhotep's best friend and former student. Imhotep was only eight years older than Rameses, but his life taught him much, even before he joined the priesthood. And Rameses was so lonely, particularly after the death of his mother.  
  
Rameses. And again, Imhotep smiled, remembering his dearest friend. Before the murder of his concubine, the young prince was a mischievous one. Lady Ardath and Anck-su-namun (Ammit take her soul) often played practical jokes, and Rameses actively encouraged the pair. Imhotep's smile died as he remembered Lady Ardath dying in her prince's arms, and the promise she extracted from him, to watch over Rameses for her.  
  
He betrayed Rameses even then, ignoring the way his friend was spinning out of control, even after he tortured Khaldun to death. After suffering the torment of the hom-dai, Imhotep wished now that he stopped Rameses. Khaldun deserved to die, but Rameses didn't deserve the pain accompanying that night's work. But at the time, Imhotep welcomed the rage, thinking that it would help Rameses deal with the loss of his concubine.  
  
He should have known better. But at the same time, perhaps he had. Had Seti himself not said that Ardath softened Rameses? And was not the torture and murder of Khaldun proof that Rameses had not lost those qualities which he needed to rule? The younger Imhotep thought so. But they were not. They were merely the first sign that Rameses was starting to spin out of control. And a sign that Imhotep failed to honor his promise to Ardath.  
  
Three thousand years later, his betrayal weighed heavily on Imhotep. No, he did not like the woman whom Rameses loved; and yes, that dislike due to his jealousy of her. She replaced him in Rameses' life; before he met Ardath, Rameses came to Imhotep first with whatever troubled him. And Ardath was competition for Anck's attention, or so the self-centered young priest thought. Now, Imhotep could see how stupid he was. It sickened him, to remember how much time he wasted on being jealous of a young girl who made Rameses so happy.  
  
And she had! For those five years they were together, before her murder, Rameses was the happiest Imhotep ever saw him. Given the torment of the hom-dai, what was wrong with Imhotep, to begrudge his best friend those five years of joy and laughter? Especially when Rameses felt unworthy to raise Ardath's final gift to him, their son. Rameses named the child after his lost love, and gave him to the young Med-jai Shakir Bey.  
  
With a start, Imhotep realized that Shakir was not there, that night that Imhotep's world came crashing down. Shakir, he remembered, was the Med-jai assigned to protect Anck-su-namun, as well as the captain's younger brother. Why had he never remembered this before? Why was it important? A voice whispered to him, "Shakir Bey raised Rameses and Ardath's son. What did Rameses name that son?"  
  
Ardeth. He gave his son the name of his mother, and changed the spelling. Imhotep saw him running around the palace, a beautiful little boy with his mother's hazel eyes and smile, and Rameses' black hair. Ardeth Bey. A jolt passed through Imhotep's body at that name. Why did he know that name? Lock-nah. He spoke of Ardeth Bey, the Med-jai chieftain. But for the life of him, Imhotep could not remember what the Med-jai looked like. Did he resemble his distant ancestor, for whom else could he be?  
  
Imhotep didn't know. But it was time to get answers, and to do that, he would have to allow Lock-nah's remaining men to think he believed them. He would have to kidnap this little child, whom they said was the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's daughter. If she was indeed kidnapped by the O'Connells, he could help her find her missing mother. And if not. . . Imhotep smiled. If not, then perhaps it was time to arrange a meeting between these stragglers and the O'Connells. Then he would know, once and for all, where to stand.  
  
. . .  
  
Over the next week, Ardeth recovered from his ordeal. That was how Evy put it, at least, but Jonathan knew their Med-jai friend did not think in such terms. That was totally alien to him. However, that was exactly how Jonathan viewed what transpired at Hamunaptra while he, Evy, Rick, Alex and the Ferguson ladies made their way back to Cairo. Ardeth was attacked and violated. There was no other term for what was done to him.  
  
Once he and Celia had their Talk, Jonathan helped Ardeth upstairs to the bathroom so he could bathe. He ate soup, and was probably dehydrated, as well as exhausted. As it was, Jonathan supported most of Ardeth's weight, being as unobtrusive as possible. He pretended he didn't hear Ardeth groaning softly from pain and stiffness.  
  
He pretended that he didn't see, once more, the bruises that mottled Ardeth's bronze skin. Instead, he set his teeth and gently helped the healing man into the bath that would take away some of his pain, to say nothing of his smell. Jonathan regarded Ardeth Bey as one of his best friends, but there were no two ways around it. After three days in the desert and having only camels and horses as company, he smelled terribly.  
  
Once he was certain Ardeth would be fine, Jonathan left the bathroom, trembling. What was happening to him? He didn't understand. He, Jonathan Carnahan, was turning into someone responsible. And not only that, when he and Rick examined Ardeth after Celia drove Khaldun from his unwilling body, Jonathan felt a rage which was only matched by the fury he felt when Anck- su-namun (or Meela or whoever the hell she was) killed Evy at Ahm Shere.  
  
//I told you, this is the man whom you have always been. You are right. There is much responsibility, being this man. But there are also great rewards,// a familiar voice said. Jonathan looked up to see Lady Ardath at his side. It was so much easier when he was just Evy's rotter older brother. The ghostly concubine said almost reprovingly, //You have not been that man since Ahm Shere. You cannot be that man again. You may try, but you will not succeed. My child once told your brother-in-law that by denying his past, he had no future. And if he embraced that missing piece of his heart, he could do anything. The same is true of you, Jonathan Carnahan, once known as Nassor, trusted general of Rameses.//  
  
Once more, he whispered, "I'm afraid, m'Lady. I am afraid that I'll let Ardeth down, just like I let down everyone else who matters to me. And this time, it could cost him his life. I cannot live with that guilt." Lady Ardath just smiled at him tenderly, and Jonathan had a moment of vertigo, as a memory flashed through his mind. Rameses telling Nassor how he only had to see his Ardath smile, and he knew everything would be all right.  
  
Three thousand years later, Jonathan understood exactly what Rameses meant. Though the Englishman was not privy to Ardeth Bey's innermost thoughts, he would have agreed with Ardeth's assertion that Celia could seduce him with her honesty, because the same was true of Lady Ardath. Not for the first time, Jonathan and Nassor marveled at the similarities between the two women. It was to be hoped that through each reincarnation, a person learned more, just as a person learned more through the years of their current lifetime.  
  
//You will not let my child down, Nassor. You did not let him down in Ahm Shere, or on the bus in London. Nor did you let him down at the bazaar. Do you truly believe that you could fail him now? After being through so much together?// the concubine asked. Jonathan lowered his eyes, and Lady Ardath continued, //Listen to me. Once before, you feared that you would fail my child. But you did not. And you will not.//  
  
"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" Jonathan asked weakly, and a familiar, mischievous grin lit the girl's face. He forgot that she was but twenty years old when she died. So very young. Younger than Evy was when they awakened Imhotep. The Englishman sighed, then added, "I suppose you're right. But don't expect me to give up easily. You can't change the way you see yourself over night, you know."  
  
//I do know, why do you think it took three thousand years to reunite two hearts? Three thousand years, plus the gods wiping out memories until this most recent reincarnation, I should say? You know how stubborn Rameses is, Nassor, you of all people should remember that! So it should not be a great surprise that Ardeth Bey is equally stubborn. He carries the spirit of my love, even as he carries my name,// came the response.  
  
Jonathan could hardly argue with that. . .Ardeth was rather stubborn. He had only to remember their first few encounters, if he did indeed forget. And his Nassor-memories told him that Rameses was just as bad. Jonathan answered at last, "I suppose you're right. Ardath, tell me truthfully, this incident today isn't the last time we'll face Khaldun, is it?"  
  
//You know in your heart, the answer to that question. You know you all must face him, one last time. Not just Ardeth and Celia, but you, as well as the reincarnations of Nefertiri and Terumun. There is one other, who will join you. I cannot say whom, or how, but you know the identity of this one as well. But know this as well, Nassor. I will be with you. With all of you, when that day comes,// Ardath answered.  
  
She smiled, even as he started to ask one more question of her, and then disappeared. Jonathan stared, dumbfounded, then muttered, "Damnation, she's just as bad as Ardeth, up and disappearing whenever the mood strikes her!" He heard a soft laugh, and added a bit peevishly, "You were supposed to hear that!" Jonathan was left with the sound of tinkling laughter, even as sounds inside the privy told him that Ardeth was finished bathing.  
  
Telling himself that he would think about Ardath's warning later, Jonathan called, "Ardeth? You ready to come out, old man?" Jonathan stopped and thought about that for the first time. His habit of calling Evy and Ardeth, both of whom were younger, 'old.' Then again, they both tended to behave older than they actually were. Especially Ardeth, though Jonathan came to realize that was due to his lot in life.  
  
There was a muffled groan inside the bathroom, and Jonathan decided he would rather suffer Ardeth's wrath than Evy's, the former's prowess with a scimitar aside. The Englishman opened the door as Ardeth wrapped a towel around his waist, and asked carefully, "Do you need any help?" Ardeth looked up, his eyes filled with pain. Not just from the bruises decorating his body, as extensive as those were.  
  
When they examined Ardeth, Rick and Jonathan discovered that he friend had cracked ribs, there was a nasty bruise on his abdomen, and there were other bruises. But there was another pain in Ardeth's eyes now, and Jonathan realized he had to be very careful. He asked softly, "Can you do your. . .um. . .lower half?" Ardeth nodded and Jonathan continued, "Good. Then sit on the edge of the tub, and I'll get another towel and do your arms and hair. Or should I get Celia? She's likely to be much more gentle than I am."  
  
"I do not wish for her to see me like this," came the soft reply. Ardeth carefully lowered himself to the edge of the tub, barely stifling a few groans as he did. Jonathan looked at him worriedly, and Ardeth continued, "I am well, Jonathan. Merely. . .oh. In a little pain." The Med-jai leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. The rage Jonathan felt a few hours earlier, as he and Rick checked over their friend, returned in full force.  
  
"I should say so, you look like a horse trampled you," Jonathan replied as he returned with a towel. He gently patted Ardeth's shoulders and back dry, before carefully draping the towel around his neck. Jonathan really felt that Celia should be here for this, as he wasn't comfortable with these actions. The Englishman asked gently, "Will you be all right to dress yourself?" Ardeth nodded, his eyes still closed.  
  
"I will be fine. Jonathan, you have my thanks. I know you feel Celia should be in here, but I. . .she needs to be with her daughter right now. You have my thanks for that as well. For looking after her," Ardeth replied, sounding very tired. Jonathan swallowed hard, then he turned his back to let Ardeth dress in peace. There was silence for several moments, before a low groan had him turning back around.  
  
Ardeth successfully pulled on the trousers, but he was struggling with his shirt. His robes were being cleaned, and until they *were* clean, he was wearing spare clothes that belonged to Rick. Jonathan never saw his friend in anything other than the black robes of the Med-jai. The Englishman said not a word as he helped Ardeth to arrange the shirt properly, then stepped back. However, he kept his hand on the young man's shoulder, waiting until Ardeth caught his breath.  
  
Once Ardeth opened his eyes and looked up at him, Jonathan asked softly, "Are you ready?" The Med-jai nodded and Jonathan helped him to his feet. He kept his arm around Ardeth's waist, helping him from the privy. Next would come the room he would be using. It never occurred to Jonathan, as he helped his friend down the hall, and eased him into bed, that he was already making good on his promise to Lady Ardath. After all, this was nothing. Wasn't it?  
  
. . .  
  
Things fell into a pattern for the next week. Day by day, Ardeth regained more of his strength. Rick did a double take the first time he saw Ardeth in the borrowed clothes from the American's closet. Attired in loose beige trousers and an equally loose-fitting shirt, and barefoot, Ardeth looked much younger. Rick bit back a smile, remembering how his friend shuffled into the kitchen for dinner that first night.  
  
He looked sleepy, his black hair all but covering his face, and Evy told Rick later that she was reminded of a little boy who just awoke from a nap. Rick didn't know if he liked that idea, since both Evy and Celia tended to react the same way to seeing the Med-jai look so vulnerable. Honestly, seeing Ardeth like that threatened to send Rick's world in a tailspin. He didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but Ardeth was one of his rocks.  
  
It rattled him, a few months earlier, to see Ardeth looking so sick after their crazy ride through London in the double-decker bus. He obviously wasn't all right, his chest, shoulder, and arm badly scratched. And that wasn't taking into account the wound in his other shoulder, the one which Rick didn't notice at first, mainly because he was too busy taking out his frustration and worry on Ardeth.  
  
Rick shifted, remembering once again what Khaldun said. He could feel the wood of the bookcase pressing into his face as the evil spirit reminded him of past misdeeds. He could hear the voice coming from Ardeth's mouth, but didn't belong to him, *You think so, do you? Why should he believe that? I can see his memories, Rick O'Connell. I can feel the pain in his already aching body when you slammed him into the pillar of stone outside your home.*  
  
Just to make sure, Rick looked across the room at the man now sprawled on the davenport, half-asleep. Ardeth *seemed* all right, but he of all people knew how the Med-jai could pretend to be just fine, even if he really wasn't. A soft, accented voice floated from across the room, "Should I be worried about the way you stare at me, O'Connell?" Rick blinked and looked back at his friend. Ardeth's eyes were closed. How did. . .?  
  
As if hearing his thoughts, the Med-jai continued, still sounding sleepy, "One thing every warrior learns, as he grows more experienced, is the sensation one receives when another is staring at him. What is more difficult to learn is whether the person staring is a friend or not." Ardeth opened his eyes, lifting his head from the davenport, adding, "I know you are a friend. I simply do not know why you stare at me."  
  
"Just making sure you're alright, buddy," Rick answered mildly, wincing when Ardeth's brows climbed almost into his hairline. The American continued, "Look, I know I can be an ass at times, but you almost died a few times during the last few days, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. And you know, you could have just asked me why I was staring at you, instead of going into that whole. . ."  
  
Rick waved his hand, and Ardeth smiled almost impishly. Okay, this was scary. Rick *worried* when Ardeth smiled like that. The Med-jai replied solemnly, his dark eyes twinkling, "But O'Connell, I did ask you." Rick growled, reached behind him and threw a pillow at his friend. Ardeth caught it easily, his smile broadening in a way that made Rick very nervous.  
  
Just to be safe, Rick glanced over his shoulder to make sure that his wife wasn't watching from the kitchen. Nope. The American heaved a sigh of relief, even as he was hit by a flying pillow. Coming from Ardeth's direction. Rick allowed the pillow to fall into his lap and glared at the other man, who was smirking at him. Why that. . .! Just as Rick was getting ready to return fire, Evy called, "Enough, children, don't make me come in there and separate you."  
  
"We're already separated!" Rick yelled back, then yelped as Evy smacked him in the back of his head. He glared at Ardeth, who was grinning like a loon. Damn. Maybe these repeated blows to his head were starting to take its toll on Ardeth! Rick would swear that his long-time friend was changing right in front of him. And the other explanation, that the changes in Ardeth were caused by his relationship with Celia, REALLY scared Rick.  
  
"Not enough, obviously. Are you feeling better, Ardeth? Good. You know, I've noticed that you and Celia haven't had much chance to spend time together, these last few days," Evy observed. Rick jumped, eyeing his wife cautiously. Okay, what was she up to this time? He had to admit, she was right about the matchmaking thing. He finally accepted that, without further argument, after the passionate kiss he witnessed at the Med-jai camp.  
  
So what was she up to? Ardeth answered quietly, "Miranda has some. . .issues. . . requiring Celia's attention. I believe she is afraid that Celia will be taken from her once more." Rick winced, understanding at once. He was thirty-four years old, and had serious separation issues where his wife and son were involved. He could only imagine what four year old Miranda was going through, after seeing her mother abducted in front of her.  
  
"Well, Miranda is doing a little better, after a solid week with her mum. She and Alex are outside, if you'd like to spend some time alone with Celia," Evy replied with a smile best described as pure evil. A quick glance over his shoulder told Rick that Ardeth's eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree, and Evy continued, "She's upstairs, doing some research. I think she could probably use a break, to say nothing of a distraction."  
  
"Thank you, Evy," Ardeth said very softly. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, then made his way toward the stairs, before heading up to the second floor. Rick looked from his still stiff and sore friend, to his wife, to find a gleeful smile now decorating her beautiful face. She just grinned at him, kissing his forehead before she bounced back into the kitchen. Rick gave one last glance toward Ardeth, then followed Evy into the kitchen.  
  
"Evy, what are you up to?" Rick asked. Evy responded with an innocent 'who me' look, which didn't fool him in the least. After all, he had seen it too many times over the last seven years. Usually when she was doing something which would land them all in trouble. The problem with that, in this case, was Rick had no idea what she could be doing which would cause trouble for them.  
  
"I am giving two people who are very important to me time to spend together. Miranda is four years old, Rick, she's starting to feel more secure that her mother won't leave her. And Celia has had very little time to spend with Ardeth, even after Miranda goes to bed. They need this time alone together, Rick, just like we need our time alone," Evy replied. She stepped closer to him as she spoke, her dark eyes shimmering with conviction. And something even more sexy. That made him very, very nervous. Because it was another expression she wore when she was getting ready to do something like go running to Ahm Shere or some such place.  
  
And again, Rick couldn't have said why that troubled him so much. Celia and Ardeth were adults, in Rick and Evy's house. Not out gallivanting and attracting trouble (*no,* Rick admitted silently, *Evy and I attract trouble, Ardeth cleans up the mess after it's all over.*). What could possibly go wrong with such a scenario? Two people who loved each other, who planned to marry after this was all over?  
  
In the years to follow, he would decide that question was on the same level as 'what harm ever came from reading a book,' or 'what harm ever came from opening a chest.' He forgot one very important thing. Where he and his wife were concerned, even something as simple as a lovers tryst could end up becoming a lot worse than it was supposed to be.  
  
. . .  
  
This was the first opportunity Celia Ferguson had during the last few weeks to accomplish something, since her kidnapping. True, she and Evy had another six months in which to get their work done, but Celia missed doing research. And while this was not part of the plan originally, plans changed. It was her hope that she could find something that would help them to defeat Khaldun.  
  
More to the point, she was trying to find references to her own means of banishing Khaldun, the chant which simply popped into her head. Ardeth had told her that Horus and Isis were. . .well, the Med-jai belonged to the son and mother. And Celia belonged to Isis. According to her memories of being Lady Ardath, the young concubine belonged to Hathor, but none of this answered her questions.  
  
How did she know to say that? Upon further questioning, Ardeth explained that Isis and Horus did not choose the Med-jai until his distant ancestor, the first Med-jai chieftain, called upon them during a battle. So it was *after* Lady Ardath's murder. Celia had to conclude that she read the chant somewhere. There was one other possibility, of course. . .according to the folklore, vampires had to be invited into a person's home. Perhaps Khaldun was a sort of vampire, and since he wasn't invited into Ardeth's body. . .  
  
ARGH! Celia shook her head. She had to stop this, she was giving herself a massive headache. The trouble was, Celia was a seeker of knowledge. That was how her grandmother raised her. And it was making her crazy. The rest of the chant be damned, how did she know to call upon Horus and Isis? She was so intent on finding the answer, she never heard the door open or the quiet creaks of the wood.  
  
"Are you *trying* to make yourself insane?"  
  
Celia shrieked, jumping what felt like a mile in the air. Ardeth caught her before she hit her chair again, turning her around to face him. He grinned impishly, and before she could answer, he kissed her. Celia just gave a happy sigh, winding her arms around him as she melted against his body. While she spent most of the last week with her daughter, reassuring Miranda, she and Ardeth stole a few kisses, usually while Rick's back was turned.  
  
He always scowled when he did catch them kissing, adding, "Would you two get a room??" Well, that explained where Alex got it. Between Rick and Jonathan. Of course, every time Rick said that, Ardeth just smiled and kissed her again. Not that Celia complained too much, of course. She loved kissing Ardeth, but then she loved everything about him, from his smile to his kisses to the feel of his silky black hair in her fingers.  
  
Ardeth finally broke off the kiss, whispering, "Your kisses can make me forget my own name, my Celia." The American woman just smiled as Ardeth settled her against the desk, his hands resting lightly on her waist. He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers in a gesture of affection that made her smile. Just as his habit of referring to her as 'his' Celia. Leslie Carstairs never spoke of her with that tone of voice, of her or to her.  
  
"Your kisses do the same to me, my Ardeth," she answered and won a bright grin. She looked over him, inspecting his current attire. During the last few days, he wore borrowed clothing from Rick's closet, while Evy continued to get his Med-jai robes clean. Today, he was again clad in a loose beige shirt, and equally loose trousers. He still looked good in black. However, she was finding out that he looked good in every other color as well.  
  
Motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she watched Miranda and Alex playing. Celia smiled, absently dropping a kiss on the cloth covering Ardeth's shoulder, as she watched her daughter and the little boy play outside. Ardeth answered hoarsely, "They do well together. I have missed you, Cecelia." The young woman tore her eyes away from her daughter, knowing that Evy was watching Miranda, as was Jonathan.  
  
She smiled at Ardeth, answering, "I love you." In the days since she admitted that to herself, Celia often repeated it, if only silently. Just to get used to saying the words. Because every time she said those words aloud, the mask Ardeth wore as the chieftain vanished. She didn't like seeing that mask. She wanted to see the real Ardeth Bey when she looked into those beautiful brown eyes, the man she loved.  
  
Leaning forward, trusting in Ardeth to keep her from falling, Celia shifted the loose shirt to one side, pressing a soft kiss to his now-bare shoulder. First one kiss, then another, against warm flesh and solid bone. Ardeth moaned, his body trembling as she worked her way toward his neck. He would have pulled away, but Celia prevented that when she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer to her own body.  
  
She pulled back, to see him staring at her dazedly, and she whispered once more, "I love you." Celia kissed him, pulling away every few seconds to whisper another 'I love you.' But after the third or fourth time, Ardeth didn't allow her to pull away. Instead, his arms tightened around her and returned a fervent kiss. Celia quickly lost control, and had no fear whatsoever. She clung to him, embracing him with her mouth, with her arms, with her legs. With everything she was, with everything she ever would be.  
  
Was it truly possible to love someone this much? The logical part of Celia's mind said of course not, especially not after only a few weeks. Then again, that logical part of her mind also told her that Leslie Carstairs was a good catch, and look how badly that had turned out. Celia firmly told her logical mind to shut up, and returned her attention to kissing Ardeth, which was far more pleasant in any event.  
  
But even Ardeth had to come up for air (damn), and he breathed softly, "I love you, my Celia. I fear sometimes that you have only been a beautiful dream. That I will wake up, and. . ." His voice cracked, alerting Celia to something being not quite right. She pulled back, still keeping a fierce grasp on him. She swallowed hard, seeing agony in his beautiful eyes as Ardeth whispered, "You are real? You will not leave me?"  
  
And once more, there it was, that aching loneliness which called out to her from the start. Loneliness and a bone-deep pain that would take much time and much love before she could truly ease it. She answered, "I will not leave you. Not even if you want me to." She managed to get a weak grin out of him at that. Celia whispered, "I am no dream, Ardeth Bey. I am a flesh and blood woman with flaws and insecurities, with hurts and with pride. But if you want me, I am yours. Now and for all time."  
  
"I do want you. So much. Celia, I would tell you of my nightmares. So they will not frighten you," Ardeth replied earnestly. She shifted her weight on the desk, forgetting that her legs were still wrapped around his waist until he groaned, his head dropping onto her shoulder. Celia gently kissed the top of his head, fingers slipping around to the back of his neck. After a moment, he raised his forehead from her shoulder to look into her eyes.  
  
"Then I shall listen as you tell me. Are these the nightmares that Miranda overheard?" Celia asked. While she knew some of what had happened at both Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere, there were still many missing pieces. Ardeth nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, her lips gently brushing against the tattoos, then whispered against his skin, "Tell me, my Ardeth. Tell me, so I may help."  
  
"I do not know if that is possible. But I will tell you," Ardeth replied quietly. She listened as he told her of the dig at Hamunaptra engineered by Meela Nais, and following the desiccated corpse of Imhotep from Egypt to England. He told of the battle with Lock-nah and his men, and the flight to rescue Evy from Imhotep. Celia said not a word as he outlined what happened in the wild ride from the British museum, followed by Alex's kidnapping. Of his meetings with the Council once he returned to Egypt, and the race to Ahm Shere. He told of losing Horus, and the final confrontation with Lock-nah, who did so much to hurt his family.  
  
And then, the Army of Anubis. Celia's hands slipped from the back of Ardeth's neck, gently kneading his shoulders, as he tried to describe for her the monstrous dog-headed creatures. But she didn't speak, only listened as his voice grew ragged with pain. The first wave was easy. Too easy. As his young warriors (what did he think he was, old?) celebrated around him, Ardeth was possessed of a terrible certainty that it wasn't over.  
  
And so he ran through the celebrating warriors until he could see what he needed to see, the sight confirming his suspicions. There were more coming. So many more, and Ardeth Bey felt icy water replace his blood in his veins. He was afraid before. Many times, he was afraid. When his father died, when his brother died, leaving seventeen year old Ardeth to take up the burden of leadership. But never like this, never like this. Ardeth looked first to one side, and then the other, to find eyes on him expectantly. Trustingly. His heart breaking, even as he gave the order, Ardeth roared, 'Til Death!' And heard his men pick up the chant.  
  
He told of the bone-chilling terror he felt as that mass of evil swept over the sand dunes surrounding Ahm Shere. He did not want to die. He did not want these warriors to die. But if the O'Connells failed to stop Imhotep and the Scorpion King. . . But the O'Connells did not fail. Indeed, the dog-headed warriors disappeared in a shower of black sand which covered Ardeth and his men. But that did not stop the nightmares in the months since.  
  
At last, Ardeth was silent, drawing in deep gulps of air. Celia did not speak at first, then whispered, "In all my dreams when I was a girl, I never thought it possible to gain such a valiant heart. You are a truly courageous man, Ardeth Bey, and I am proud you have chosen me." He looked up at her, and Celia removed her hands from his shoulders to cup his face. She gently stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs, murmuring, "When you have nightmares, after we are married, then I will hold you. You'll find no judgment in me, Ardeth Bey. Only love."  
  
With a strangled groan, Ardeth allowed his head to fall forward once more. Celia enveloped him in a fierce embrace, whispering over and over that she loved him. She could not tell him that everything would be all right. That would be denigrating to him. But she could, and she would, tell him that she would be there to pick up the pieces. They sat there together, wrapped in each other's arms, for what seemed like an eternity, until Ardeth stiffened.  
  
Before she could ask what was wrong, he whispered, "La, this cannot be. But it is. He is here! He is here now!" Ardeth pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes suddenly reflecting terror and rage, and whispered, "The Creature is here, in this house, Celia." The American barely had time to accept that, when a shrill scream of terror exploded through the house. Celia's own blood ran cold as she identified the source, for the scream came from her child. It was Miranda screaming.  
  
. . .  
  
This was his fault, all his fault! If he was doing his job, none of this would have happened! That was the constant refrain beating through Ardeth's mind as he raced downstairs after Celia. Like his beloved, he recognized the scream as belonging to Miranda.  
  
There was no reason in the world for Imhotep to take Miranda, but Ardeth knew in his heart and soul that the Creature came for the little girl. Why, he didn't know. How he was brought back into the world, after he threw himself into the Underworld, after the betrayal of Anck-su-namun, that Ardeth did not know, either, and Hamunaptra was not disturbed since Khaldun's awakening.  
  
But none of that mattered now. As Celia and Ardeth reached the bottom of the stairs, they saw the Creature throw Rick O'Connell across the room, even as Imhotep tore the American's shotgun from his grasp and sent it in the opposite direction. Ardeth quickly ascertained that O'Connell was standing in front of the terrified Miranda, who just came inside with Alex. The little O'Connell stood at her side, holding her hand tightly.  
  
And now Evelyn stood protectively between the two children and Imhotep, armed with only her courage. Thinking quickly, Ardeth whispered to Celia, "I will distract him. Get Evelyn and the children, and get out of the house." Celia nodded, looking frightened, and Ardeth added, "I will be fine, my love, but you must see to your daughter. The Creature wants her, for what I do not know, but he is here for her."  
  
Celia nodded once more, silently telling him to be careful with her eyes. Then, as Ardeth gave a fierce, wordless cry, she dashed out from behind him, heading for her daughter, Alex, and Evelyn. The Creature swung to face him, and there was only a moment of shocked fury, before Ardeth found himself engaged in a hand-to-hand battle for his life. A vicious backhand sent him into the bookcase, but all too aware of the consequences if he failed, Ardeth was back on his feet immediately, even as O'Connell rushed the Creature from the other side.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Ardeth tracked Celia's progress. She was almost there. . . almost there. . .when Imhotep realized what they were doing. With a roar, he flung Ardeth high into the air, and the Med-jai grunted in pain as he hit the wooden bookcase. Again. Pain flashed through his body and he fought to remain conscious. His back took the brunt of the impact, rather than his head, but as he slid to the ground, Ardeth's body was enveloped in agony.  
  
Miranda's scream of "MOMMY!" cut through the threatening blackness, and Ardeth's vision cleared, just in time to see Celia literally torn away from her daughter, and thrown hard against the wall. She crumpled to the ground bonelessly, and again, Miranda screamed. That image, and that sound, galvanized Ardeth into action. With a cry of rage and grief, fearing that Celia was dead, Ardeth charged Imhotep once more, but the Creature simply laughed and Ardeth found himself flying through the air once more. This was getting quite tiresome.  
  
He landed with a thud, and the Creature spared just enough time to send a bone-shattering kick into Ardeth's side. Then sand sprayed the room, and both the Creature and Miranda were gone. Ardeth groaned, pushing himself to his feet. He would check for broken ribs later. Right now, he had to get to Celia. She was moaning, her head moving from side to side. Ardeth fought back tears. For a moment, he was truly afraid he lost her, just as Rameses lost Ardath, and that grief would have sent him to his knees if not for the jobs which lay ahead.  
  
But as he carefully lifted Celia into his arms, ignoring the lancing pain through his side, Ardeth now understood the grief and madness that consumed Rameses after the death of his beloved concubine, his wife in all but name. At the time of Ardath's murder, they had five years together, and a child. Surely, with those five years, Rameses' grief must have been even more devastating than what Ardeth just experienced!  
  
Celia opened her eyes, trying desperately to focus, and gave a soft gasp of pain. Ardeth reached around to the back of her head, and found the reason. A nasty bump, but as he removed his fingers to look at it, he was relieved there was no blood. Slowly, her eyes cleared and she whispered, "Miranda?" Ardeth tried to find the words to tell her that he failed to protect her little girl, and it wasn't necessary. Celia gave an anguished sob and buried her face in Ardeth's robes.  
  
The Med-jai rocked her back and forth, totally undone. He should have expected this. Celia did not weep when her brother betrayed her, and cried only a little when she was rescued. A quick consultation with his sister Aleta informed him that she did not weep, either, when she learned of Jason's fate. She was guilt-ridden after striking Ardeth to drive out Khaldun. And now, she could take no more.  
  
"Forgive me," he whispered over and over, in English, in Arabic, and any other language he could think of. He was only vaguely aware of O'Connell moving about the room, of Evelyn and Alex both crying softly. The only thing important to Ardeth Bey was the woman now weeping in his arms. Once before, he did his best to comfort the O'Connells, after Alex's kidnapping, by telling them the Creature could not harm the boy.  
  
But that was when he knew why Alex was taken, and he had no words to offer to Celia, for he had no reason why the Creature would want little Miranda. Neither Celia nor Miranda had anything belonging to him. Ardeth closed his eyes as Celia gave a little wail, only barely recognizable as, "It wasn't your fault!" But it was. It was his fault. He should have. . .Ardeth didn't know what he should have done. But there must be something he could have done.  
  
"Uh, people. You may want to come look at this," Jonathan said in a strained voice. Ardeth slowly lifted Celia to her feet, and together, they joined the Englishman, taking halting steps. Ardeth's ribs were really starting to ache now, and he knew Celia was probably dealing with a pounding headache and dizziness. He had enough headaches during the last few days to recognize that.  
  
Ardeth felt dizzy when he saw what attracted Jonathan's attention. Sand. But not just sand left by the Creature. Sand spelling out a message in ancient Egyptian. Evelyn whispered, "He left us a clue. Imhotep told us where to find her, where to find Miranda. Where it all began." She looked up at them, her dark eyes wide with confusion and concern, as she said, "Where it all began? Where what all began?"  
  
But Ardeth knew exactly what the Creature meant. A quick glance at O'Connell told him that the American knew as well, and it was O'Connell who replied, "Hamunaptra. It all began at Hamunaptra. He wants us there, but why? Why take Miranda?" Ardeth shook his head slowly, his arms still wrapped around Celia. O'Connell continued, "Oh, and Ardeth? You might want to have someone take a look at your bruises."  
  
Ardeth responded with a glare, and Celia turned in his arms. Her eyes widened as she gently touched his cheek where the Creature backhanded him. She whispered, "Ardeth. How badly did he hurt you? And I haven't felt you take a full breath!" Oh, he would definitely kill O'Connell for this! Celia asked, slowly fighting to regain control once more, "All right. You said he'll take her to Hamunaptra, but we don't know why."  
  
"No, this makes no sense! He wouldn't try to resurrect Anck-su-namun again, and Miranda is too young for that anyhow. Neither you, nor she, took anything from Hamunaptra. You pose no threat to Imhotep, and how did he get out of the Underworld in the first place?" Evelyn asked. Ardeth shook his head, gasping a little in pain. Evelyn continued, taking charge, "Right. Celia, we'll take care of Ardeth. Alex, darling, help your uncle with the supplies."  
  
"I'll get our weapons and make the travel arrangements. Sorry, buddy, but it looks like you have to fly again," O'Connell said, smirking at Ardeth. The Med-jai glared at him, but without real heat. Yes, he assumed as much. He just wished he knew what the Creature wanted of Miranda. And then he thought of something else, something that made him smile. Miranda was ferociously protective of her mother and Ardeth. She saw the Creature attack them both.  
  
Were it not for the Creature's habit of causing trouble for those who mattered most to Ardeth, he would have actually felt sorry for Imhotep for what he just unleashed on himself. While Ardeth didn't hear all about Alex's time in captivity, he did know Miranda well enough to realize that long before he and the others arrived to rescue the little girl, Miranda herself would make Imhotep pay and pay dearly! 


	18. Miranda's Aunt, the Mummy

Part Seventeen  
  
"I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" Miranda screamed, beating her fists on the chest of the awful man who hurt her mother and Ardeth. They landed here, the mean man still holding Miranda close as he stalked toward that scary place with the funny name. Miranda didn't want to be here. She was afraid. She wanted to be back with her mommy and with Ardeth. Ardeth would be her daddy when he and Mommy got married.  
  
"Shhh, little one, I will not harm you," the man replied softly, rubbing her back. Miranda burst into tears. He hurt her mommy, she saw him hurt her mommy! The man whispered something under his breath, then said, "I have been unforgivably rude, little one. My name is Imhotep, high priest of Seti the First. I have brought you here for your protection, there is no need to be afraid of me. I have left word with your mother where you could be found."  
  
Miranda didn't stop crying, but she did stop pounding on the man's chest. She was getting tired, and her fists hurt. The man patted her back again, saying softly, "I was told that you were the reincarnation of a very special little girl who was kidnapped by the O'Connells." Miranda reared back at that piece of information, so startled that she stopped crying. K. . .k. . . kidnapped? NO! She got mad at Uncle Rick sometimes, but. . .  
  
"They didn't kidnap me! Uncle Jason and those bad men kidnapped my mommy, but Uncle Rick and Aunt Evy didn't kidnap me. They're Mommy's friends! You hurt my mommy!" Miranda repeated. She found herself being cradled close against the man's chest and held as she cried herself out. She didn't know what to do. She was just a little girl, she wasn't big and strong, and she couldn't fight like Ardeth.  
  
"Shhh, it is all right, little one. I ask your forgiveness for harming your mother. I still do not know your name, though I know your mother to be Ardath," the man named Imhotep said. Miranda frowned, wiping away her tears as she pulled back once more to look at him. Ardeth? That wasn't her mommy's name, her mommy's name was Celia! The man explained, "Your mother has had many names over the centuries, little one. The name by which she was known, the first time I met her, was 'Lady Ardath,' concubine of Prince Rameses."  
  
She looked at him, frowning. He was a stranger. She wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. But Miranda was far from her home, literally ripped from her mother's arms, and this man apologized for hurting her mother. He said that he was told Uncle Rick and Aunt Evy kidnapped her. She whispered, "Miranda. My name is Miranda. My mommy's name is Celia. My uncle Jason kidnapped her. I. . .Uncle Jason!" She saw her uncle over the man's shoulders, Uncle Jason and two other men, and Imhotep stiffened.  
  
He turned very slowly and growled something that Miranda couldn't understand. But she did feel his arms tightening around her, the way Mommy's did when she thought someone might hurt Miranda. Uncle Jason answered, "So. You recognize me, Imhotep? Good. Then you know why you have been awakened." Miranda curled closer to the man who just took her from her mother. That other man wasn't really Uncle Jason.  
  
Imhotep answered, again in words Miranda didn't understand. Then, as he had when he took her out of her aunt and uncle's house, he spun around. Miranda squealed and grabbed Imhotep around the neck, hanging on for dear life. There was a blur, and Imhotep muttered, "Foolish man. . .this is my place. He should have realized there were places here that I know, and he does not. You will be safe here."  
  
He set her down, gazing at her almost in the same way Ardeth looked at her. He put his finger under her chin, and continued, "I must go, child. Khaldun and his men will try to find you, but they will fail. I have roamed these halls for so many years, and I know these walls well. I can make myself unseen, and should anyone try to harm you, they will die. You have my word as a high priest on that."  
  
Miranda nodded. Not because of his word, but because he just protected her from Uncle Jason. Imhotep smiled at her, his eyes lighting up, as he continued, "Listen to me, little Miranda, your mother and the Med- jai are coming for you. I told them where to find you, in a manner of speaking. And again, I give you my word, I will not harm your mother or. . .or the Med-jai again. They are not my enemies. Indeed, I seek to protect them, for we have a common enemy."  
  
Miranda tried to figure out what that meant. She wished her mommy or Ardeth were here, so they could tell her. Imhotep closed his eyes and bowed his head, then offered, "Khaldun seeks to hurt your mother. He also seeks to hurt me. So I will help your mother. Do you understand?" Now that, Miranda *did* understand. She smiled at him, and Imhotep added, muttering, "Oh, Imhotep, you fool! Stay here, little one, and be safe."  
  
As soon as the words were out, one of the men who was with Uncle Jason only a few minutes earlier appeared behind Imhotep. Miranda tried to call out a warning to her new protector, but it wasn't necessary. The man swung around, and the bad man went flying back. Imhotep stalked away from Miranda, and drove a dagger (where did he get that?) into the man's tummy. Miranda cringed as the man fell to the ground.  
  
And then she remembered, he was with Uncle Jason. Uncle Jason hurt her mommy, kidnapped her, and hurt Ardeth, too. He would have hurt Miranda. And the little girl decided she was glad the bad man was dead. He couldn't hurt her, or her mommy, or Ardeth any more. Imhotep turned back to her, then smiled very gently, and touched her face. She smiled back, and Imhotep quietly disappeared.  
  
Miranda looked around, not sure where she was. Until she looked down beside her and saw. . .a mummy? Aunt Evy told her about mummies! The mummy looked like it might be a lady mummy, and Miranda wondered about the lady before she died. She whispered to the body, "I'm scared, are you? Don't be. I'm not very big, and I can't fight as good as Ardeth, but I'll protect you until my mommy and Ardeth come."  
  
. . .  
  
Anck was more touched than words could say by Miranda's offer to protect her body. She wept as Imhotep tore through the O'Connell house, injuring both Ardeth and Celia, and frightening little Miranda as he abducted the little girl. And she screamed at her love, begging him not to do this. Even as the O'Connells, Celia, and Ardeth made their plans, Anck watched her love take the little girl to Hamunaptra.  
  
*Would you like to reanimate your body and stay with the child until her mother and the others arrive?* a soft voice asked, and Anck looked away from the land of the mortals, to her companion. Mathayus was looking at her compassionately as he added, *It is permitted, and you will bring her comfort. I have spoke with Ma'at, and she has agreed. She does not think you will frighten the child.*  
  
*Yes,* Anck whispered. That was all that was required, it seemed. The word was scarcely out of her mouth, before she found herself spinning, spinning, spinning. And then she was settling back in her own body for the first time in three thousand years. Anck took a deep breath, feeling as if she was drowning. It took several blinks before her eyes seemed willing to work, and then she sat up. Miranda turned very slowly, her small body tense with fear. Anck struggled to remind herself to speak in English, not in her own language. And to remain patient.  
  
"Do not be afraid of me. I am Princess Anck-su-namun. I was given leave to come to you, since you were so kind to offer your protection to me," Anck said slowly, carefully. The fear in Miranda's dark eyes slowly gave way to curiosity. She had reason to be afraid-by the gods, did she have reason to be afraid! Anck realized how she must look to the child and hoped she wouldn't frighten Miranda further by smiling at her.  
  
"My name is Miranda, are you really real?" the little girl asked softly and Anck nodded. Miranda swallowed hard, her dark eyes getting bigger by the minute, and asked next, "Can I touch you? Or are you gonna turn to dust? Aunt Evy says we gotta be careful, 'cause sometimes if we touch a mummy, they'll turn to dust, but I don't understand that." This was said with a shake of her head.  
  
If Anck was charmed by the little girl earlier, she was totally enchanted now. She very carefully attempted a smile as she replied, "You may touch me, sweet girl." With that, she carefully closed her fingers around Miranda's wrist, and lifted her hand to touch Anck's face. Miranda gave a little giggle, and Anck found herself laughing as well. The concubine said, "I will take care of you, Miranda, until your mama comes for you."  
  
"Okay. I was right! I was right, you ARE a lady mummy!" the little girl exclaimed excitedly. Anck laughed delightedly, especially when Miranda gave an excited little bounce. But as children often do, her mood swung drastically, and Miranda asked, "Princess, is my mommy okay? Imhotep hurt her. He says he didn't mean to, and he protected me from those bad men, but. . ." Anck melted.  
  
"In the first place, little Miranda," the concubine whispered, "you must call me 'Anck.' That is what my forever friend always called me, before she died. And in the second place, before I came to join you, I saw your mother. She and Ardeth are fine. Your mama is frightened for you, and Ardeth blames himself, but they are fine, and they are on their way here."  
  
Miranda screwed up her little face into a glare, and said angrily, "It's not Ardeth's fault! He was hurt!" The little girl gave an exasperated huff, and Anck fought back a giggle. Miranda asked next, "What happened to your forever friend? How did she die? Were you real sad?" Anck swallowed at the barrage of questions, which brought back so many memories, and Miranda said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."  
  
"You did not make me sad, little Miranda, you did not kill my forever friend. Her name was Ardath. When we were twenty years old, she was killed by the bad man who made your uncle Jason hurt your mama. She was poisoned, and died in the arms of Rameses, whom she loved and who was the father of her child. And yes, dear one, I was very, very sad. So sad, that I thought I was the only one who loved her. The only one who missed her," Anck replied.  
  
"Imhotep said that my mommy's name used to be 'Ardath,' a long time ago," Miranda offered, and Anck nodded, smiling. Yes, he had. Miranda looked at her, and said, "Do you think your friend knew my mommy? Like, Mommy told me once, that sometimes, two ladies had the same name, 'cause one lady was named after the other."  
  
"Your mama was my forever friend, dear one. She was the Ardath who was my forever friend. I have missed her so much, and now she is back. She has found Rameses again. You see, little one, just as your mama's name was once Ardath, so too, Ardeth Bey was once called 'Rameses,' and they loved each other very, very much. In fact," Anck said, looking at Miranda, "since your mama is the reincarnation of my forever friend, my sister, that makes you my niece."  
  
"OOH! Goody! I have an aunt who's a mummy!" Miranda said, giving a little bounce as she clapped her hands. Anck threw her head back and laughed, almost regretting it. She forgot that she was in a three thousand year old body, and her head almost fell off when she laughed. Which would have frightened Miranda. However, after a moment, Anck was saved from losing her head.  
  
"Yes, dear heart, you have an aunt who is a mummy. And I will stay here and take care of you, until your mama comes. She will be here as soon as she can, along with your other aunt," Anck replied. Curiously, the only envy she felt now for Nefertiri was that she could hold a child, and feel the softness of that child's hair, that child's skin. Anck never really gave much thought to having a child. But she regretted that now. She regretted so many things.  
  
"Aunt Anck, are you sure my mommy's okay?" Miranda asked, and Anck cupped the small face in her hands. She remembered holding Ardeth after his birth, the sweet weight of a trusting child against her. She remembered seeing the beautiful little black-haired boy, hurtling through the corridors, crying out to her. She shut out those memories for so long. But now, it all came back, including the feel of Ardeth throwing his little arms around her legs.  
  
Seti always laughed, she remembered now, when he saw the smudging of the paint caused by a little boy holding Anck's legs. She also remembered the hurt in his eyes when Anck moved protectively in front of the little boy, as if to shield him from Seti's anger. Yes. There was hurt in his voice when he asked, "Do you truly think I would harm my own grandchild, Anck?" Something else she forgot. Seti loved Ardeth. He loved to watch the little boy run through the corridors, squealing with laughter when Shakir caught him and spun him around.  
  
So many memories, so many mistakes. So many times when she only saw what she wanted to see. She was slowly coming to accept that Ardath's murder was not her fault, but there were plenty of other things that were. Anck leaned forward, saying very softly, "Miranda. I have many regrets in my life. But I will not lie to you. Your mama is all right. Yes, she was hurt. But she is awake and she is moving, and she is coming for you. Do you believe me?" Wide, dark eyes regarded her, eyes that reminded her of another child.  
  
And then Miranda nodded very slowly, saying softly, "Okay. Aunt Anck? Would I hurt you if I gave you a hug?" In answer, Anck scooped the little girl into her arms, shifting her until Miranda was seated cross-wise on Anck's lap, her head resting securely against the concubine's chest. Miranda whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking the leathery skin of Anck's mummy, "I'm tired, Aunt Anck. Can I take a nap?" Anck lightly kissed the dark hair, her own eyes wet with tears, surprised to find that she could cry even in a three thousand year old body.  
  
She began to sing to the little girl, a lullaby she remembered hearing when she was a small girl. Who sung that? It was not an Egyptian song. No, Ardath's foster mother sang it to Ardath, who in turn sang it to Anck when the Egyptian girl was feeling frightened. She smiled weakly as she sang, remembering how Ardath denied that she was singing it to Anck. After all, Anck didn't get scared. Ardath was singing it to herself.  
  
Foolish, prideful little girl. But in time, Anck allowed herself to take the comfort offered. It was only right, then, that three thousand years later, Anck was singing that song to Miranda, the daughter of Ardath's reincarnation. Anck knew that this was not the reincarnation of either of Ardath's children. This soul was entirely too new. But she was Celia's daughter, and Celia was the reincarnation of Ardath. That was all that mattered. She didn't even realize it, but Anck just took another step in her own redemption.  
  
. . .  
  
In the future, Imhotep decided, he would be a little more careful in his choices. Though small, Miranda obviously learned how to throw a punch, and he had the bruises on his chest to prove it. Then there was her amazing ability to scream. Imhotep was unaccustomed to dealing with small girls. Yes, there was Nefertiri when she was a child, but she was a princess, taught to behave as royalty from a very young age.  
  
Miranda, on the other hand, wasn't a princess. She was just a frightened little girl who was taken from her mother's arms, and saw her mother thrown rather brutally into a wall. If that wasn't enough to make Imhotep feel low, then there was the way she screamed at him that she hated him. Not because she didn't get her own way, but because of the pain he caused her mother, someone she loved.  
  
Imhotep wasn't entirely sure, where these feelings originated. Perhaps it was because some of the soul's memories remained within the body, and the man who inhabited the body before Imhotep would have been repulsed by what Imhotep did. Maybe it was the memory of seeing what his arrogance did to so many. But the high priest felt ashamed for frightening the child, and for hurting her mother.  
  
He accomplished what he set out to do. He knew now that he was used, and he also knew who was doing the using. Khaldun. Somehow, Khaldun rose once more. And that could not be good. Imhotep realized, during his appearance in the O'Connell house, that the child's mother was the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. Which meant another member of that long-ago drama was now involved. Ardath, Imhotep, Khaldun, Terumun, Nefertiri, and Nassor. The only one remaining was Rameses.  
  
That also explained why Khaldun's men wanted him to kidnap the child. It was so obvious. Kidnap the child, lure the mother here, and Khaldun could take his revenge on Ardath's reincarnation. Never mind, of course, that she was not among those who tortured, then murdered, Khaldun. That never made a difference to one such as Khaldun. Imhotep knew that well, for once, much to his shame, he was like that.  
  
He left little Miranda with the mummy of Anck-su-namun, perhaps because the Anck-su-namun he remembered would have watched over the child. Though in the beginning, she had little use for children, Anck-su-namun loved the small son of her forever friend. She called him her nephew, just as Ardath was Anck-su-namun's sister. And while she betrayed him, Imhotep felt in his heart that the woman he loved so many years earlier would never betray Ardath.  
  
Just to be safe, Imhotep placed wards around the child. Khaldun would not be permitted to separate another mother and child. Imhotep ignored the voice in his head, which reminded him of a time when he showed no such scruples. But that was before his time in the Underworld, before he cared about the suffering he caused to others with his selfishness. Besides, while he was selfish, Imhotep was never stupid. He didn't make the same mistake twice.  
  
Again, that voice reminded him that wasn't entirely true. How many times did he underestimate the O'Connell family? And the Med-jai? Imhotep felt a smile tugging at his lips as he thought of the young Med-jai in the O'Connell house, their ally from his first rising. While the young man was always his opponent, Imhotep had to acknowledge his worthiness as an opponent. He did not give up, even after repeatedly being thrown into the wall, he. . .  
  
Wait. What was that? Imhotep ignored his surroundings for a moment, focusing on his fight with the Med-jai. There was something so familiar about him, something which never registered with Imhotep in all the times he fought the O'Connells. Then again, how many times did he actually face the Med-jai, through all the times he faced the O'Connells? Truly, he saw the young man from a distance when he and O'Connell rescued the reincarnation of Nefertiri. But never did he actually face the Med-jai.  
  
Something else occurred to him then. Lock-nah often ranted about the Med-jai chieftain, through the journey to Ahm Shere. Ardeth Bey. Imhotep's breath caught in his throat as he realized why the young man looked so familiar to him. He could be a twin to Rameses, save for the black hair that reached his shoulders.  
  
Like most Egyptians of the time, Rameses wore his hair close cropped and a wig. It was neither curly nor wavy. On the other hand, Imhotep remembered that his son Ardeth's hair was wavy, like his mother's. Yes. He was staring at the descendent of his best friend, who was a Med-jai. Imhotep wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. It didn't occur to him, however, that after three thousand years, it was highly unlikely that a simple descendent of Rameses would bear such a striking resemblance to the prince.  
  
"Oh, Imhotep, you have truly done it this time," the high priest muttered under his breath, stalking through the corridors of Hamunaptra. One of Khaldun's men appeared in front of him, as if conjured by Imhotep's mind. The high priest welcomed the chance to hurt someone, someone who tried to use him, someone who would use an innocent child in such an evil way.  
  
However, this wasn't one of Khaldun's men, after all. It wasn't even a man, but a skeleton. Imhotep eyed the strangely familiar figure, then he smiled in recognition. The being rasped in the language of the slaves, "You have need of me, my prince?" Imhotep never thought the little weasel was truly loyal to him. But for now, he would take what allies he could find to protect little Miranda.  
  
"There is a child in the resurrection chamber, a girl-child of four years. You are to protect her. See that no harm comes to her, for she is the key to my redemption," Imhotep instructed the little man once known as 'Beni.' He didn't know how Beni awakened, why his spirit returned to animate his corpse, but he had a feeling it had to do with Khaldun's awakening. The line between the living and the dead grew blurry.  
  
"I shall do as you ask, my prince," Beni answered. Imhotep inclined his head, then continued seeking out Khaldun's men, for he wished to dispose of as many of them as possible. The fewer men to face the O'Connells and the Med-jai, the less time it would take for Miranda's rescue to take place, and thus, the less time Khaldun would have to finish whatever plans he had in mind for both Ardath's reincarnation and her child.  
  
Which brought up another interesting question. Miranda called Khaldun's present form 'Uncle Jason.' When he absorbed the fluids of those who opened the chest, Imhotep absorbed their knowledge in a way he didn't fully understand. What he did understand was that 'uncle' meant the brother of a parent. In this case, Imhotep guessed, Khaldun took over the body of Ardath's brother.  
  
It was just the sort of thing to appeal to Khaldun, assuming, of course, that he even knew that the boy Jason was brother to Ardath's reincarnation. Even so, Imhotep knew that he was grateful he never before faced Ardeth Bey in combat, as he had the O'Connells. It was hard enough, seeing the face of a brother on the body of an enemy. Defeating Khaldun would not be easy for Miranda's mother.  
  
He told Beni's skeleton that protecting Miranda was his key to redemption. Something he wanted. He cared little for the pain he caused Seti. After all, Seti hurt Anck-su-namun. But he did care about the pain he caused to Nefertiri and to Rameses. He cared about the pain he caused to others, whose only crime was getting in his way. He regretted that very much. And while Miranda was not the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's lost daughter, it mattered little. Imhotep found it very hard, dealing with that loss. He had little love for Lady Ardath, but that did not mean he wished to see her grieving so terribly for her child.  
  
The child she lost because of that bastard Khaldun. And as a healer, Imhotep never wanted to lose a patient. There was one other factor; though the souls were totally different, the names were not. Miriam and Miranda (*but how did he know Ardath's daughter was Miriam, when she did not name that child during her life?*). Two little girls, separated by three thousand years, but this time, Imhotep would make things right. This time, he would make sure that an innocent child did not pay the consequences for Khaldun's evil.  
  
. . .  
  
There was a lot of work to do, and not much time. Rick was making himself, and everyone else, insane by trying to figure out what he could use to bribe Izzy into taking them to Hamunaptra. Jonathan and Alex were trying to decide what kinds of supplies they would need, when Celia finally told them in no uncertain terms to find a small bag and start putting first aid necessities into that bag.  
  
When Jonathan muttered a few choice phrases under his breath about bossy females, Celia stopped what she was doing (namely, removing Ardeth's shirt so she and Evy could see how badly he was injured) and turned a steely gaze onto Evy's older brother. Jonathan double-timed it into the pantry just off the kitchen, chanting, "I'm going, I'm going!" Evy decided to never anger Celia, least of all when her child was kidnapped.  
  
It took some work, but the two young women had Ardeth lying on the davenport. Rick made an obscure remark about Ardeth enjoying the attention of two beautiful women while he was prone and half-naked. Celia picked up a pair of scissors, and waved the utensils at him threateningly. Rick backpedaled out of the room, hands raised in the classic 'surrender' gesture. *Eventually,* Evy thought, *he'll learn not to make her angry. Eventually.*  
  
The trouble at the moment was not Rick, but Ardeth himself. The vicious kick to his side resulted in broken ribs. He had no business going into battle, but Evy knew better than to suggest he stay here. That wasn't who Ardeth Bey was, it never was. He did the exact same thing after Alex was kidnapped, but this was deeper. More personal. Evy recognized that just as Ardeth fell in love with the mother, he grew to love the child as his own.  
  
He would not allow Celia to face this alone. So, the pair carefully wrapped his ribs, stabilizing the broken bones. He was in excruciating pain. Evy could see it in his eyes, but he fought to maintain his composure. It helped that Celia's hands rested on his shoulders, stabilizing him. If it was Celia who did the wrapping, they might have been in trouble. The pair had a hard time keeping their hands off each other. Not unlike Rick and Evy, come to think of it.  
  
Still, she couldn't resist teasing Ardeth as she carefully tied off the bandage, "All done, unless you wish Celia to kiss and make better first?" She arched her brows at him suggestively, and Ardeth blushed, muttering something under his breath that sounded uncomplimentary. Evy laughed softly, exercising her right as a little sister to tease her big brother.  
  
As she expected, Ardeth blushed once more and Evy's grin widened. She sat back to admire her handiwork, and Ardeth said as he pushed himself to his feet, "I must go. Are my robes clean yet?" Evy nodded, and Ardeth leaned heavily against the davenport. Celia also rose to her feet, a small hand going to Ardeth's shoulder in a wordless gesture of support. Evy checked him again, just to make sure he was breathing all right. And he was. For the moment.  
  
As Celia put a gentle, supportive arm around Ardeth's waist, leading him toward the stairs, the front door flew open. Celia released Ardeth, her body going almost automatically into a defensive stance. Evy blinked, then winced as Rick barreled into the front room, his gun cocked and ready to fire. At the same time, Jonathan and Alex appeared from the pantry, Jonathan wielding a broom. Rick shifted on the safety, glanced at Jonathan and asked with amusement, "What were you planning to do with that?"  
  
Jonathan simply glared at Evy's husband and retreated to the pantry once more, dragging Alex behind him, ignoring the little boy's protest that he wanted to stay and talk to Anatol, their unexpected visitor. Evy returned her attention to the young Med-jai, who was glaring at Ardeth for all he was worth. What followed made the arguments between Nefertiri and Rameses, when they were children, look like nothing.  
  
Ardeth kept trying to go upstairs, but Anatol was determined to have his say. Evy learned with a shock that Anatol wanted Celia as his own wife. Strange. She never even considered that, especially since Celia was five years older than Anatol, and her friend seemed to regard the warrior as a kid brother. Ardeth quietly answered that this was rude to their hosts, and to Celia. However, these things needed to be said, and he loved Celia, just as Celia loved him. Ardeth was truly sorry that caused his brother pain.  
  
And once more, a man learned not to anger Celia, as the young American woman exclaimed in exasperation, "I apologize for breaking up whatever this is, but Anatol, it will wait. My little girl's been kidnapped, she needs me, and I don't intend to fail her again. So, either join us or get out of our way. Your choice." Anatol blinked, as if he never saw this pint-sized American Fury before in his life. Which, when Evy thought about it, was about right. At last, Anatol made his decision. He took Ardeth's other side, helping his older brother up the stairs.  
  
Evy and Rick looked at each other, then Rick finally said, "Well, that was interesting. Does anyone have any idea what that was all about?" Evy nodded, flopping down onto the cushions just vacated by Ardeth. Rick continued, sitting down beside her, "Well, would you like to share with the rest of the class, or do we have to play twenty questions?" He picked up Evy's hand, lightly kissing her knuckles.  
  
"Well, do you want the long version or the short?" Evy asked. Rick just looked at her, and Evy explained with a sigh, "Short version it is. It seems Anatol is in love with Celia, or at least wants her as his wife. Apparently, he doesn't think she's quite strong enough to stand up to the disappointed Med-jai maidens whom she'll be displacing." Rick just arched his brows, as he looked from Evy to the stairs leading to the second floor.  
  
"He might want to rethink that," Rick observed and Evy nodded. Her husband continued, "I know she keeps surprising me. Besides, she's too old for him." Evy glared at him, and Rick put up his hands, adding in a more conciliatory tone, "I just mean that she's five years older than he is, and he should have a girlfriend his own age. One of the things that allows Celia work so well with Ardeth is she understands him."  
  
Rick added with a slight frown, "Although I find that scary. Especially when she starts talking like him. You're only supposed to do that when you're an old married couple like us." Evy tried to keep her scowl, but couldn't do it. Rick was trying so hard. Besides. She liked the idea of being an old married couple. She should have realized why Rick was trying so hard. For the next thing he said was, "And we've got a baby on the way, so I want you to stay here, Evy."  
  
The Englishwoman was on her feet immediately, her hands on her hips and glaring at Rick ferociously. Rick was on his feet as well, putting his hands on her shoulders, as he said, "You're pregnant, honey. I just don't want anything to happen to you or to the baby." Evy took a deep breath, remembering the last time they had this conversation. However, he was right, and she did have to protect her child.  
  
At last, she replied, "Rick, darling. Listen. I told you when this first started, that we couldn't hide from what we are anymore. Do you remember the last time we had this conversation? I agreed with you, before first I, then our son, was kidnapped. I will be careful, but you know as well as I do that anything can happen. If I'm with you, and Jonathan, and Ardeth, I have a better chance of staying safe. You know that."  
  
Rick looked away, and Evy cupped his face with her hand, saying softly, "Rick. Every instinct I possess is telling me that I must be there, for this final confrontation. I will not fight. I will leave that to you, and to Ardeth. But I must be there. I must make things right. I failed my brother before, when I was Nefertiri and he was Rameses. Don't you see? I am finished with failing the people I love."  
  
Rick closed his eyes and lowered his head. After a moment, he looked at her and said, "You're right. I know you're right. But I am so afraid of losing you. . ." His voice trailed off, and Evy rocked up onto her toes, lightly kissing his lips. She smiled at him, and Rick muttered, "I hate it when you do that. Makes me feel like agreeing to anything." Evy laughed softly, recognizing her own words from a few months earlier, prior to her kidnapping.  
  
"Ohhhh, puh-leaze! Would you two get a room?" Alex and Jonathan whined in unison, even as Anatol, Ardeth, and Celia came downstairs.  
  
Ardeth was once more dressed in the black robes of the Med-jai. Rick sighed, kissed Evy again, then he went to Ardeth's side. Evy knew the bandoliers would have to be arranged over Ardeth's chest, and he still had to gather his weaponry. Anatol was still staring at Celia, as if he never saw her before, and Evy fought her grin. She said aloud, "Since you two have such a problem with watching me kiss Rick, why don't you help Anatol with his weapons, and Celia and I will start carrying the supplies out to the car?"  
  
This met with the approval of all three boys (including the overgrown one), and Alex and Jonathan dragged Anatol into the pantry. Evy decided she really didn't want to know what sorts of weapons were in there that she didn't know about. Instead, she turned her attention to the other female in the group and said, "Well. It looks like Anatol is changing his mind about you, dear friend. Care to share some gossip while we load the car? This could take a while."  
  
"That, my dear Mrs. O'Connell, sounds like an absolutely capital idea," came Celia's sassy reply. Evy laughed and picked up one bag, handing the other to her friend. As the two women headed outside to start their latest adventure, Celia said, "You know, ever since I got to Egypt, I've been finding out a lot of things about myself. Did that happen to you. . .ahhh, never mind. I did NOT ask that question!" Evy just laughed, understanding exactly what Celia meant.  
  
. . .  
  
Within two hours of Miranda's abduction, the group was ready to go. Ardeth was sitting with Rick, who glanced at his friend worriedly every few minutes. The Med-jai was pale, with one hand pressed to his side. The American swallowed hard, hoping that no permanent damage was done to him. The poor guy was beaten up enough during the last few weeks.  
  
Rick turned his attention to the problem of transportation to Hamunaptra. Winston, of course, was dead, and there was no way he would do that a second time even if Winston was alive. For one thing, Ardeth's ribs would never handle being tied to an airplane wing a second time. For another, there were a lot more people this time around. Despite repeated efforts, he was unable to get in touch with Izzy. Rick thought briefly that Izzy wouldn't take his calls, then dismissed that possibility from his mind. Why wouldn't Izzy take his calls?  
  
As the car jerked forward, there was a soft groan to his left. From the corner of his eye, Rick saw Celia reach forward to put her hand on Ardeth's shoulder. The Med-jai turned his head in that direction, resting his cheek against her small, pale hand. Rick swallowed hard, then directed his attention to the road. They couldn't rescue Miranda if he got into an accident.  
  
Fortunately, the drive to Izzy's airfield was a short one, and Rick pulled his car to a halt. Everyone got out, Evy and Celia helping Ardeth, while a still-stunned Anatol helped Alex to remove the supplies from the floor of the car. One of these days, Rick would seriously have to talk to his wife about the way she packed the car. The American smacked his brother-in-law in the back of his head, indicating Anatol and Alex, then he headed over to get Izzy's attention.  
  
His old buddy was no happier to see him now than he was a few months earlier. However, the good thing about that was, while he was arguing with Rick, Anatol, Jonathan, and Alex loaded their supplies onto his plane. Plane? Yes, plane. That damn dirigible (which admittedly saved their lives while Ahm Shere was being sucked into the ground) was no more. Ardeth joined Rick and Izzy, Evy and Celia making sure he stayed balanced.  
  
After Alex's kidnapping, Rick finally bribed Izzy into helping them by waving the Spear of Osiris in his old friend's face. The Spear of Osiris was gone, along with Ahm Shere and the Scorpion King. And Izzy wanted them to make it worth his while. Rick was running out of patience when the familiar sound of a steel scimitar clearing its scabbard could be heard. Rick moved out of the way as Ardeth rested the blade of his scimitar against Izzy's throat.  
  
The chieftain spoke in Arabic, his eyes flashing with quiet rage. Rick, who did know Arabic, didn't recognize the dialect. However, Izzy obviously did, for he gave a sizable gulp, his eyes going very wide. Not that Rick blamed him, not when Ardeth was scaring the hell out of him, and Rick didn't understand a word of what he was saying. Izzy gave a single nod, and Ardeth removed the scimitar from his throat. Izzy scampered away, one hand on his butt protectively as he looked over his shoulder at Ardeth.  
  
Rick turned to look at his exhausted friend, but it was Evy who said, "Uh, Ardeth? There was only one problem with that little speech. You had your sword at his throat." The Med-jai looked at her with an innocent shrug, and Rick just looked at his wife as Celia stepped to Ardeth's side once more. Evy said, "Well, my former boss was a Med-jai, darling, and I learned a few things from him when he wasn't looking."  
  
"Evy, what did Ardeth say?" Rick asked as Celia guided their friend toward the waiting plane, Izzy shooting nervous looks at the Med-jai. Evy just smiled as they caught up to the other couple, her eyes dancing with laughter. Ardeth's rage was giving way to embarrassment, and Rick guessed it was because of his anger. The American never saw his friend *that* angry, which meant this was pretty good. On the other hand, he figured that much from Izzy's reaction.  
  
"Welllll," Evy answered, drawing the word out, "it seems that my patient brother has his limits." Ardeth glared at her. Evy just grinned impishly, and continued, "He informed Izzy that the little girl currently missing is the daughter of Ardeth's betrothed, and Ardeth already regards Miranda as his daughter. So, if Izzy didn't get the airplane ready for take off, he wouldn't *need* to worry about you getting him shot in the ass, because Ardeth would do that himself."  
  
Rick nodded, until he realized what she just said. When he did, he looked first at his wife, then at his friend. Huh? He asked, looking back at Evy, "Uh, honey, are you sure you translated that correctly? I mean, Ardeth actually said the Arabic equivalent of 'butt' or 'hindquarters,' right?" That wasn't making any sense to the American. Rick used coarse language on a regular basis. But Ardeth was much more refined in his speech. Usually.  
  
However, Evy shook her head, still grinning, and replied, "Nope. He definitely said, 'ass.' And it seems Izzy believed him, too." Rick just stared at his best friend in shock. Ardeth Bey told Izzy to get moving, or he would shoot him in the ass. Not in the butt, not in the posterior, not even in the buttocks, but in the ass. Ardeth started blushing, yet another strange occurrence Rick never saw, before the last few weeks.  
  
Rick grinned and thumped Ardeth on the back, grimacing at the Med- jai's grunt of pain. Damn. He hit Ardeth's bad side, he had to be more careful about that. Once Ardeth gave him a faint smile, Rick shook his head and said, "Damn, Ardeth! I didn't think you had it in you!" He stopped at the airplane, which was bigger than Winston's. Thank God. He didn't think Ardeth would survive being strapped to a wing this time. Rick helped Alex into the flying machine.  
  
"I find that I am surprising myself lately, my friend," came the rueful response. Rick threw his head back and laughed, helping his friend into the plane, followed by Celia Ferguson. He bit back a smile at the way Celia fussed over the Med-jai, before heading back out to help Evy with whatever she was doing. Ardeth added softly, just loud enough for Rick to hear him, "My brother is angry because when he left the encampment, my sisters were planning my wedding to Celia, and Anatol wants her for himself."  
  
"Isn't he kinda young for her?" Rick wondered aloud, adding hastily at Ardeth's glare, "I just meant, he's twenty-five and she's thirty. She's closer to your age than to his." And Rick was a year older than Ardeth, so he had absolutely no room to talk. The American continued after a moment, "I dunno, buddy. I just can't see Celia with Anatol. She's better with you. She can actually make you laugh, and I didn't think that was possible."  
  
"You would be surprised at what is possible with my people and with me, O'Connell," came the reply. Rick gave a short bark of laughter. Oh, not really! After the things Rick saw over the last few years, he didn't think anything could surprise him. At least, until a wicked gleam appeared in the eyes of his best friend as he said, "After all, I did tell you, did I not, that we were brothers? And we are, twice over. First as Med-jai, and second, through Nefertiri."  
  
It was on the point of Rick's tongue to argue, until he stopped and thought about it. Dammit, the man was right. Again. Was he ever wrong? Rick glared at Ardeth, muttering, "There are times when I really hate you." Ardeth just laughed and held out his hand to Celia, who passed Rick to sit beside her unofficial fiancé. Rick sat down in front of them, with Evy beside him. Anatol and Jonathan sat side by side, while Alex had chosen to sit with Izzy.  
  
As Izzy boarded, Rick heard a soft conversation between Ardeth and Celia. It seemed that Celia never flew before, and Ardeth was trying to reassure her. And if Celia was breaking Ardeth's fingers by holding onto his hand, he probably wouldn't feel the pain of his broken ribs as much. Evy glared at him, then Izzy called for everyone to hang on, they were getting ready to take off. Behind him, Rick heard Ardeth mutter under his breath, "I have come to hate that phrase. Almost as much as when O'Connell says 'we, what we,' among others."  
  
Rick started to turn around to say something to his friend, but Evy elbowed him in the ribs, and it was then that Izzy took off. It slammed Rick back into his seat, and by the time he had a snappy comeback, Ardeth turned his attention back to reassuring the frightened young woman beside him. Yup. There were definitely times when he hated Ardeth. But right now, he would spend his time planning out what he would do to Imhotep when he got his hands on that annoying son of a bitch. Now *that* would be fun!  
  
. . .  
  
"What did you mean by that?" Celia asked her companion, trying desperately to avoid clinging to his hand. She never flew before. Instead, she, Jason, and Miranda took the boat all the way from the States to Egypt. She had no idea what to expect, and as the plane started rolling forward, Celia was trying to find ways to refocus her attention, and talking to Ardeth seemed like her best course of action at the moment.  
  
Rick suggested they wait until *after* they were airborne to make plans for the rescue of her daughter, and Ardeth agreed. Though Celia heard him muttering things under his breath that she didn't fully understand, nor was she meant to understand. Ardeth replied now, turning his head back to her, "What did I mean about what, Celia?" This *really* was not the time to be ogling this man, as beautiful as he happened to be.  
  
"When you said you've come to hate hearing that phrase. . .uhm, 'hang on.' I know why you hate when he says 'we, what we.' But what did you mean by the 'hang on' comment?" Celia asked. Ardeth rolled his eyes and glared at the back of Rick's head. Which told her that whatever was behind that particular story, Rick O'Connell was deeply involved. Then again, she should have expected *that.*  
  
"This is the fourth time I have heard that. The first time was while we were fleeing from the Creature's slaves through the streets of Cairo. The second time was when we went to Hamunaptra to rescue Evelyn. I was strapped to one wing and Jonathan the other, since this pilot had a plane left over from the Great War. A two-seater. As we neared Hamunaptra, the Creature called forth a great wall of sand, and we crashed," Ardeth explained. Celia winced, her hand tightening around Ardeth's. She heard some of this from Evy, but not all of it.  
  
He gave her a rueful smile, continuing, "The most recent time was a few months ago, in Izzy's dirigible. I have no love of flying, but I did fly from Egypt to England and back again. I cannot truly say that was without incident. I was flying *to* England to retrieve the Bracelet of Anubis, and I flew *back* to help rescue Alex O'Connell." Celia winced, and Ardeth continued, "We were again pursuing the Creature, and as we neared the Oasis of Ahm Shere, the Creature called forth another great wall, this time of water."  
  
"And again, you crashed, which is why you hate it when Rick says 'hang on.' Now we're flying and pursuing Imhotep. In other words, it would be a very good idea for me to bend over, put my head between my legs, and kiss my ass good-bye," Celia observed dryly. Ardeth blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. The laughter ended on a groan as his hand went to his injured side, and Celia scolded, "Ardeth! You'll hurt yourself!"  
  
Ardeth said something else in Arabic, which sounded vaguely rude, then replied, "That is an accurate description of what to do when O'Connell says we must hang on. Coarse, but accurate." From the seat in front of them, Celia could hear Rick answering with something just as rude, though in English. Celia barely managed to bite back a smile. If she smiled, then the next step would be laughing. And then she would start crying.  
  
"Well, Ardeth, I've never claimed to be a lady, and it seemed appropriate for the circumstances," Celia bantered. She was rewarded with a brilliant smile, and this time, it was all Celia could do to keep from melting in her seat. She wondered if his smile would always have this effect on her. She rather hoped so. After a moment, she said, "Well. We're in the air, so what's the plan?"  
  
"Rescue the little lady, kill the bad guy, save the world," came the reply from the seat in front of her. Again, Ardeth rolled his eyes, his face settling into what Celia recognized as his 'oh, I have heard *that* before' expression. Which meant there was a story behind that as well. Rick continued, turning in his seat, "Seriously, the biggest thing we need to decide is how we'll split up. Hamunaptra is a big place, and there are a lot of places for Imhotep to hide a little girl."  
  
"Not entirely. And something else is taking place, O'Connell. I cannot be certain what it is, but I do know that the Creature is not entirely himself. Did you notice as well, Evelyn?" Ardeth replied. Celia looked around at her companions, totally lost. What the hell were they talking about? From the way Ardeth was talking, it almost sounded as if he didn't think Imhotep was the greatest threat to her daughter.  
  
"I did. Ardeth, he had hair! His head wasn't shaved!" Evy responded, turning in her seat. Celia stared at her friend briefly in confusion, then understood. As a high priest, Imhotep was totally hairless. And the man in the house had short dark hair. But he did have hair. Ardeth nodded grimly, and Evy continued, "Which explains how he came back from the Underworld. His spirit was called forth, not his body. A new body was provided for him, someone with a reasonable resemblance. All right, he bears a striking resemblance to Imhotep."  
  
"The Creature is only part of this. Hamunaptra is where everything began, with the torture and murder of Khaldun. I believe that the Creature is trying to warn us about Khaldun, for they were enemies as well," Ardeth replied. Celia shivered, wondering why the cabin suddenly grew so chilly. Or maybe it was her bone-chilling certainty that Ardeth was right. If he was, if Imhotep took Miranda as a warning against Khaldun. . .  
  
"But why would Imhotep take Miranda?" Evy asked, "Why would he take her, and tell us where to find her, if he wants to warn us about Khaldun? There's something missing, information that we don't have." She sighed, leaning her head against the back of her seat. The two couples were all silent for a long moment, then Evy added, "And what scares me more than anything else is the fact that a Med-jai was the one who recognized the difference in Imhotep."  
  
"The question then becomes, if we are indeed correct about this, why would he help those who have been his sworn enemies for three thousand years? We seek to rescue Miranda because we love her. Imhotep has no love for Khaldun. He, in fact, bound Khaldun all those centuries ago. But that is not reason enough for Imhotep to protect Miranda. You are right, Evelyn, there is something which we do not know," Ardeth replied.  
  
"Boy, that's a *big* help!" Rick said sarcastically, and Evy smacked him in the back of his head. Again. Ardeth and Celia exchanged a grin, even as Rick blurted out, "HEY!" This time, Celia didn't fight her laugh, and Ardeth squeezed her hand in answer. Apparently, he was used to this, but his expression was a little more comical than necessary. Still, Celia accepted his attempt to distract her from her fears for her daughter.  
  
"He always like this, smug and sarcastic, and not contributing much to the conversation outside smart remarks?" she asked and Ardeth nodded, then grimaced as Rick whacked his shoulder. That earned him another thwap in the back of his head from Evy, who exchanged a smug grin with Celia. Evy's husband responded with a lethal glare for both young women, and Celia added, "Hey, you walked right into that one, Rick, with both eyes wide open."  
  
Rick muttered a few choice remarks under his breath in French, and Celia chose to ignore that. She wasn't fluent in French, but she could make herself understood. In addition, she picked up a few nasty remarks. Swearing in another language, she learned, could be most satisfying. She made a mental note to herself to ask Ardeth how to swear in Arabic, and if he wouldn't agree to that, maybe she could convince Acacia or Aleta to teach her.  
  
"Play nice, children. Rick, you're not helping, and Celia, be nice," Evy chastised, sounding very much like the prim young English matron she was supposed to be. At least, until one took notice of the way her eyes twinkled. Apparently, she also wanted to distract Celia. Maybe to make sure she didn't collapse into hysterics? Evy continued after a moment, her expression becoming serious once more, "We really can't know what's going on, not until we get there. I'm not crazy about it, but we don't have any other choice."  
  
"Agreed. This is not a case where we know why the Creature has taken someone. I think there is a specific American saying which goes to such a situation, though it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever," Ardeth observed. He was on the point of saying more. Celia could tell he was getting ready to add a dig at Rick's expense. However, after a quick glance toward Celia, Ardeth fell silent.  
  
Which probably meant he was getting ready to say something along the lines of he expected nothing different from an American, or something similar. Celia just smiled at him and said, "I think the term you're looking for is, 'playing it by ear.' That's the only one that comes to mind, that doesn't make sense." When Ardeth smiled, she realized she tagged the one that was troubling him. The conversation turned toward Imhotep, and what she could expect from him. One thing was certain. This wouldn't be easy. No matter what role Imhotep played. 


	19. Ambush!

MedjaiAngel: Thanks, hon. . .hope you enjoy the rest of this story (only one more posting to go!), and the sequel, which will be posted in about a week. I need to take a short break (panting)  
  
Deana: Yes, I do hurt Ardeth just as much as you do, if not more. And yes, the cabin pressure will cause him more pain, which is part of the reason he banters with Celia. It's not just to take Celia's mind off how scared she is, it's to distract himself from how much his ribs hurt.  
  
Kierana: Welcome, and thank you SO MUCH! I love your name, and from your review, I believe I've succeeded in what I was trying to do. Thank you for that alone!  
  
Part Eighteen  
  
At first, Rick O'Connell was angry with his friend for the bantering he heard behind him. Celia's daughter was kidnapped, that was hardly a laughing matter. Then Evy murmured, "Excellent work, Ardeth." Rick looked at his wife, startled by her observation, and Evy rolled her eyes, adding, "He is distracting her, Rick. She's frightened out of her mind, and he's keeping her from going into hysterics."  
  
"Evy, honey, I really don't think Celia is the hysterical kind," Rick replied, checking his shotgun once more to make sure he had plenty of ammunition. There was a very good reason why he was a walking, talking arsenal; it kept him alive countless times when he didn't have Ardeth there to watch his back. Evy shrugged with a quick look in the window, which reflected Celia's worried face. Okay, maybe Evy had a point.  
  
"I'm sure she's not. . .but Ardeth is trying very hard to keep her calm. Don't begrudge him that, Rick, not everyone is like us," Evy replied seriously. Rick muttered a few more choice French phrases under his breath, but didn't argue with his wife. By now, he realized that doing that was just plain stupid. On every point she raised for Ardeth and Celia since their first meeting, she was right.  
  
"I know. I just keep thinking back to when Alex was taken. Celia seems too calm, Evy. I know how much that little girl means to her. We both do," Rick replied, wincing at the jolt from behind him. Ardeth just kicked the back of his seat. Rick didn't mean anything against the young woman, but she really was being entirely too calm for someone whose daughter was just kidnapped. He remembered himself hanging on the edge of the bridge after Alex's abduction, screaming his son's name.  
  
"That is how she handles things, Rick, just watch. After everything's all over, and Miranda's safe, then she'll collapse. Oh. If I'm not mistaken, that's Hamunaptra," Evy replied. Rick shuddered, seeing the all too familiar city. He really hated that place. Slowly, Izzy circled around before settling the plane down. Evy looked over her shoulder with a bright smile, saying, "No wall of anything this time, Ardeth."  
  
A muttered reply was her reward. Rick felt another surge of anger toward Ardeth, but busied himself first with his gun, then with getting off the plane. Ardeth followed with Celia, quietly saying something to Izzy on the way out. As he finished speaking, he dropped his hand lightly onto Izzy's shoulder, and the other man nodded soberly. He didn't look scared now. And that made Rick even angrier.  
  
He was being unreasonable, he knew that, but during the last few minutes, he kept seeing Evy's dead body at Ahm Shere in his mind's eye. What right did Ardeth have to risk Evy's life, again? When would the Med- jai be satisfied with their penance for raising Imhotep and then awakening the Scorpion King? And Celia was just as bad. Miranda was her daughter, what did any of this have to do with Rick or his family?  
  
As Anatol Bey helped his brother with their supplies, Rick said abruptly, "We've brought you to Hamunaptra, you can get the rest of the way on your own." Celia, Ardeth, and Anatol all turned to look at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rick was yelling, 'no, no, I didn't say that.' But his mouth continued, "I'm through with you putting my family at risk. I got Izzy to help you, and now you're on your own."  
  
Evy, Jonathan, and Alex all protested. The brothers just looked at each other, but it was Celia who replied, "Then go, Mr. O'Connell. You don't want to be here? Fine. Go back to Cairo. You're neither wanted, nor needed, here. I'd rather rescue my daughter with two men I can trust, than someone who changes his mind at the last moment. GO! We don't need you!"  
  
She turned her back on him, as if he didn't matter, and drew her hair back into a ponytail. Rick stared at her, with 'we, what we?' repeating in his mind. The brothers fell into step beside her, Anatol evidently getting over the news that not only was his brother marrying Celia, but their two sisters were all for it. Jonathan gave Rick a searing look, then called out in ancient Egyptian, "Rameses! Ardath! I would accompany you!"  
  
Rick found himself extending his arm, blocking Jonathan's path, and asked, "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Jonathan just gave him another glare, his blue eyes burning with a fury Rick couldn't remember ever seeing before. Hell, he never did something like this before, and Rick felt like someone else was in control of his body. And his voice chords, because he added, "Get your ass back into that plane, Jonathan."  
  
Jonathan pushed his arm down, even as Ardeth, Anatol, and Celia stopped and turned back. The Englishman said, reverting back to English as he glared at Rick, "I'm joining my friends." And that was all that was said, as he joined the trio.  
  
Celia smiled at him as Jonathan drew up alongside her, answering in ancient Egyptian, "You are always welcome at our side, Nassor, you know that." She gave Rick another cold look, then started walking forward once more. A stinging slap reverberated against his cheek, and the pain cleared Rick's head. It also served to return control of his body to him, and Rick realized with a sick feeling in his gut what just happened.  
  
"Thanks, honey. I needed that," Rick muttered, looking at his furious wife, who looked ready to hit him again. Evy's eyes changed from enraged to confused, and Rick explained as he started forward to catch up with the others, "It was Khaldun. That jackass decided to take over my body." *And use me to betray Ardeth,* though he didn't say that part out loud. Not that he really needed to.  
  
Up ahead, Ardeth caught Celia's sleeve, stopping her once more. The four ahead waited patiently, and Evy said by way of explanation, "Rick had to kick Khaldun out of his body." Ardeth merely inclined his head, Celia looked accepting, and Evy said with a smile, "Well, then. Once more into the breach, my friends, for a little one awaits us." *Yeah,* Rick thought grimly, *and when I get my hands on Khaldun, he'll be in worse shape than Hafez after the Scorpion King was finished with him!* Nobody, but nobody, used Rick O'Connell to harm his friends!  
  
. . .  
  
*Ammit take that little bitch, I almost had him!* Khaldun seethed after his control over Rick O'Connell was broken. He wasn't entirely certain whom he meant. . .Celia Ferguson, once known as Lady Ardath, or Evelyn O'Connell, once known as Nefertiri. Either way, it didn't matter. Either way, he would make sure those two died. But first, he wanted Ardeth Bey to die slowly.  
  
He just hadn't decided yet how he would kill the Med-jai, the reincarnation of his DEAR cousin Rameses. Would he try to make one last ditch effort to ally with Imhotep? No, his old enemy made his choice when he protected the little brat he took from her mother's arms. What about trying to re-inhabit Rick O'Connell, and stab Ardeth Bey in the back? That would be the most satisfying. . .  
  
But now O'Connell would be on his guard, and Khaldun wouldn't even attempt to control the reincarnation of Nassor. He was too strong for Khaldun, and part of what allowed Khaldun to control O'Connell was his own ambivalent feelings toward Bey. There was a part of O'Connell which blamed the Med-jai for his own inability to control Nefertiri reborn, and that was the part Khaldun used.  
  
No, it looked like it was up to Khaldun himself to deal with the reincarnation of his cousin. Well, they did say that if you wanted something done, it was best to do it yourself. Khaldun had no intention of facing his cousin in hand-to-hand combat. Rather, there was an ancient part of the city. He and Rameses played there as children.  
  
That would be an excellent place for his ambush. There were two levels to the chamber, a ground level floor and a balcony, not unlike the one where his pretty cousin Nefertiri witnessed her father's murder at the hands of Imhotep and the whore Anck-su-namun. From the balcony, he could launch a dagger, perhaps? Yes, that would work quite well. He knew from his possession of Jason Ferguson that there were wonderful little projectile weapons in this time, called 'guns,' but Jason didn't know how to use it.  
  
Khaldun's current host was a rather tiresome boy. He wasn't as strong as Ardeth Bey, of course, but he kept fighting Khaldun, swearing to do something impossible if Khaldun did anything to hurt Jason's older sister. Jason really wasn't much more than a nuisance, but he was draining Khaldun's energy. But that was all right, for that was all the more reason to ambush Ardeth, rather than fight him.  
  
The question then became, how would he lure Ardeth into his little trap? Well, why would it be necessary? Rameses could guide Ardeth to the chamber, using his own memories. And it was a good bet that the rescue party would split up: one or two to retrieve the little brat, wherever she might be, and the remainder to deal with Khaldun. As if it would be that easy. Khaldun smiled with Jason Ferguson's mouth.  
  
*Just you wait, youngling,* he taunted his young host, *just wait. You thought what I did to the Med-jai was horrid? Wait until you see what I have planned for Ardeth Bey. Once I finish with him, your precious sister is next.* Jason's soul screamed deep within, and Khaldun threw his head back, laughing. Jason's fear and despair restored the strength which the constant battle for Jason's body drained. Fair was fair, after all.  
  
But he wasn't finished having fun with the boy. He continued in a taunting voice, *You should pray to die soon, boy, because I do not doubt that your sister realizes you told me that she was Lady Ardath reborn. I had not known that, until you came. I merely sought out her soul. If you die before I catch her, then you will miss hearing her damn your name, assuming she has not begun doing that already.*  
  
*YOU BASTARD! You'll never get your hands on my sister! Ardeth Bey won't let you near her, he'll sacrifice himself before he'll allow you to harm her or my niece. Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Khaldun. When Ardeth or my sister get their hands on you, they're gonna kick your ass!* Jason retorted, his voice changing from shrill to satisfied. The reason for this became apparent a moment later as Jason added, *After all, my sister remembers being Lady Ardath, and she'll be mighty annoyed with you!*  
  
Khaldun froze. Celia Ferguson truly remembered being Lady Ardath? He searched his memory desperately, finding the proof in his attempt to destroy Ardeth Bey while in the house of O'Connell. The American bitch called upon Mother Isis. The wording didn't matter; the cry came from her heart, and Mother Isis heard her child. She remembered. There would be holes in her memory, but she did remember. Jason Ferguson added with no small amount of satisfaction, *That's right, Khaldun. She remembers you killing her three thousand years ago. And now, she'll want payback!*  
  
*SILENCE!* Khaldun roared, desperate to shut out the boy's taunting voice. He felt himself losing control of the situation, of his body (borrowed though it was), losing control of everything. When he felt more composed, Khaldun continued, *Do you really think I fear your sister, or any other woman? HA! She is weak! She was weak three thousand years ago, when she died in the arms of my dear cousin, and she is weak now!*  
  
*Yes, I think you are. You fear her, because she completes Ardeth, just as his namesake completed Rameses. Lady Ardath was the greatest source of strength for Rameses, and that's why you hated her so much. You say you don't fear my sister? I say that you're a liar, and if you're not afraid of her, then you should be. Underestimate Celia at your own risk, Khaldun,* Jason taunted. He sounded stronger, not weaker.  
  
*She should have been mine!* Khaldun exploded, *But Rameses had to have her. Everything that Rameses had should have been mine! I would have taught that little bitch to show me the proper respect.* Then, something strange happened. Khaldun found himself inside the mind of his host, and found himself literally face to face with Jason Ferguson. The boy was grinning triumphantly, and Khaldun knew fear.  
  
*Search your own memories, Khaldun, you know Anck-su-namun would have killed you, the very first time you harmed her best friend. How many others did she kill, parasite, when she found out that her friend was attacked? Anck-su-namun would have killed you, just as Rameses did kill you, for taking the life of his Lady, and then laughing about it. Make your peace, Khaldun, because you'll finally face justice for what you did to that girl and to her little boy!* Jason hissed.  
  
Khaldun swept away from the boy, both physically and in his mind. He started for the chamber where he and Rameses played as children, but Jason was there, walking backwards. He continued, *You cannot run from me, Khaldun, because while you took strength from my self-loathing and despair, I learned about you. I have seen into your mind, and into that cesspool which you call a soul. I betrayed my sister for the likes of you, and for that, I'll destroy you myself, even if I have to drive you insane!*  
  
Khaldun almost slammed himself into the wall, to silence the boy, until he realized that was exactly what Jason Ferguson wanted. The pain would give Jason the opportunity to take back his own soul. Khaldun's fury exploded. He hissed back, *The next time you open your mouth, boy, I will find that niece of yours, and rip out her entrails with your own hands. Your sister can find you both like that!* It was the best threat he had at his disposal. Unfortunately for him, it didn't work.  
  
*That would be very hard to do. After all, she is under Imhotep's protection, and he has wards surrounding the room where Miranda is,* Jason fired back, and now it sounded like he was gloating. Imhotep! This was the last time that bastard would interfere! Khaldun had him brought back from the dead, to use him against the O'Connells and the Med-jai, in the hopes that the two would destroy each other.  
  
But Imhotep, as ever, had to be difficult. Well. Khaldun would fix that. With a cruel smile twisting the lips of his host, Khaldun called upon the dead to walk. They would defend Hamunaptra from the invaders, and buy Khaldun time. If Imhotep could not be trusted to act on his ancient hatred of the Med-jai, then Khaldun would simply find another way. But one way or another, Ardeth Bey *would* die.  
  
. . .  
  
The rescuers ran into trouble as soon as they entered the treasure room. Ardeth knew this would be difficult even before they reached Hamunaptra. Nothing involving the Creature or Khaldun was ever easy. The last time he faced Khaldun, he almost lost his life, and three of his Med- jai *had* died. This time. . . Ardeth almost groaned at the sense of deja vu as a bony hand exploded through the sand of the treasure room.  
  
O'Connell growled, "Ohhhh, great, here we go again!" Ardeth said nothing, checking his Thompson. He gave Celia a rapier that Evelyn kept at the O'Connell house. He should have thought to ask her if she could fire a gun. However, he knew that she kept up with her practice during the last week, she and Evelyn. He had to have faith in her. And then, there was no more time for thinking, because the skeletons attacked.  
  
Ardeth opened fire with his Thompson, at the same time O'Connell opened fire with his own shotgun. At Ardeth's back was Celia, fending off the attacks of the skeletons coming up from behind them, and the Med-jai muttered a curse in Arabic under his breath. He shouted to O'Connell as they cleared a path through the undead warriors, "This is the work of Khaldun! The Creature only called forth his own priests!"  
  
It was Celia who called back, making a swipe at an attacking skeleton, "Well, that's reassuring! What exactly does that mean?" Ardeth didn't answer at first, he was trying to figure out how many more skeletons had to be destroyed. He felt sick. These old bones should not have been used by Khaldun. They were remains of good men, of honorable men. And Ardeth had no choice but to destroy them, to protect the living.  
  
"Shut up and fight!" O'Connell yelled while reloading his own shotgun.  
  
Ardeth rolled his eyes. Evelyn, who was fighting off another skeleton, decapitated it, then reached behind her to smack O'Connell in the back of his head. O'Connell responded with a string of curses in French, Arabic, English, and a few other languages which Ardeth didn't recognize. But he did recognize enough to realize that O'Connell was chastising his wife for fighting, when she promised that she would not.  
  
Alex O'Connell was in the middle, safely protected by the adults. It was awkward, but there was no way around it. There was no way he could be left at home. Hanif, Kaphiri, and Garai went back to the Med-jai encampment several days earlier. While he could have stayed with Izzy, the pilot said he wouldn't be remaining. Besides, knowing Alex and his parents as he did, Ardeth had a feeling the boy would find a way to sneak into the city alone. This way, someone could keep an eye on him.  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Celia yelled back in response to O'Connell demanding that she shut up and fight. Another wave of skeletons attacked, and Ardeth had to focus on fighting. Celia had a valid point. What exactly did it mean, that Khaldun raised these skeletons? He knew it was possible that the two old enemies were working together, but he didn't think so. He thought. . .  
  
Silence. Dead silence. The skeletons stood frozen. And then, they just dropped to the ground. Words spoken before, of him dropping to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut, returned to him. For that was an apt description of what just happened. Behind him, Evelyn whispered, "Someone is helping us. Someone just read from the Book. Remember, Jonathan, reading from the book and bringing the mummies of the Guards under your command?" Ardeth risked a quick glance behind him, to find the Englishman nodding, and Evy repeated, "Someone is helping us! But who?"  
  
"I can't be sure, but I say we shouldn't look a gift Mummy in the mouth," Jonathan observed. He looked down at his nephew, saying, "What do you think, Alex?" Dead silence from the boy. Concerned, Ardeth glanced behind him, to find Alex staring fixedly at something across the room from them. The Med-jai followed the boy's gaze to a woman. A woman, her body painted, and her eyes focused on Celia. Anck-su-namun.  
  
Ardeth watched the silent byplay between the two women for several moments, saw expressions flit across the lovely, painted face. Love, sorrow, grief, guilt. . .hope. Celia said in a soft, breathy voice, "She wants me to follow her. She knows where Miranda is. She can take me to my daughter. But Khaldun is the one causing all this, the one who must be stopped." She broke eye contact with Anck-su-namun just long enough to look at Ardeth, and said, "I believe her, Ardeth."  
  
O'Connell started to protest, but Ardeth shook his head at his longtime friend. He told his beloved, "As do I. But I wish you to have company. Anatol. . .would you?" His younger brother nodded, his eyes shifting to Anck-su-namun. She merely stared at him stoically. Then her eyes shifted to Ardeth and Celia, and her expression softened. As if she spoke directly to him, he heard, *I accept your terms, Ardeth Bey of the Med-jai, though I would not hurt my forever friend. Nor will I harm you.*  
  
"It's all right. She won't hurt us. Ardeth, she says you should let Rameses guide you. Rameses knows Khaldun's location, but be careful," Celia added quietly. Ardeth inclined his head to Anck-su-namun in thanks. He shouldn't trust her, at least not with his own life. But he trusted her with Celia's, and her life meant more to him than his own. And so, he turned his back on Anck-su-namun, to face Celia.  
  
Admittedly, it wasn't much of a risk. O'Connell brought his shotgun upright, to bear on Anck-su-namun. But it was the simple act of trust that he gave Anck-su-namun. He looked into Celia's eyes, saying softly, "I know of what she speaks, my Celia. There is an ancient room, ancient even in the times of Rameses and his Ardath. A chamber where Rameses and Khaldun played as children, and where Rameses later took his concubine. If something happens, once you have retrieved Miranda. . ."  
  
"Then I will know where to find you," Celia answered calmly. Her small hands came up to frame his face, and Ardeth planted a gentle kiss in the palm of her hand. He looked again at Anatol, who went from angry to resigned once he realized that Ardeth and Celia did love each other. He had faith in his brother, and his willingness to protect both Celia and Miranda. His beloved said softly, "I love you. Be careful."  
  
As Anatol joined her, Celia turned, looping her fingers through Ardeth's sash. Their bodies connected and Celia kissed him hard. Ardeth returned the kiss passionately, needing this reminder of her touch. Then he pulled back, still holding her. At least, he held her until he caught sight of Anck-su-namun watching them with a knowing smirk. He whispered as he released Celia, "I love you. Be safe."  
  
She nodded, reluctantly releasing her hold on his waist, then stepped away. She stared at him for a long moment, then smiled very faintly as she and Anatol moved slowly away, toward the waiting Anck-su-namun. At the very last moment, she turned back around and quietly followed the ghostly concubine, in what looked to be the general direction of the resurrection chamber. Ardeth said hoarsely, "This way."  
  
He heard in his mind, as he led his friends toward the ancient chamber, the laughter of two small boys. Chasing each other through the halls of Hamunaptra, each daring the other to find him. Rameses and Khaldun. The realization made his heart hurt. Once upon a time, those two boys loved each other. Sternly, Ardeth told himself to stop. Khaldun already tried to take over O'Connell to use his fears against him.  
  
And, he did the same to Ardeth, using the scars of the Mummy Warrior. The Med-jai was determined to give his enemy as few weapons to use against him as possible. Instead, he focused on leading his friends and allies down the corridors, and deeper into the cursed city. He heard O'Connell muttering uneasily behind him, and Ardeth understood his friend's worry. But. . .  
  
Here. Ardeth vaguely heard gasps from his companions. Evelyn whispered in a reverent voice, "No one has been here for three thousand years. I never even knew this place existed!"  
  
"Few ever have. Even the Med-jai did not know about this place, but Rameses did," Ardeth answered, his voice low and reverent as he looked around. They were on the ground level of the chamber, a balcony on the other side of the room. Anck-su-namun returned to his mind, her warning delivered through Celia, and Ardeth understood. The balcony would be the perfect place for an ambush.  
  
Even as that thought crossed his mind, and Ardeth scanned the pillars of the balcony for any hint of Khaldun, a familiar voice called out, "Ardeth Bey! I call upon you. . .to die!" A half second later, there was a flash of silver, then a pinch in his side, right where Imhotep kicked him. Ardeth's hand was already resting on his scimitar, and as he started to pull it free of its scabbard, he heard gasps behind him. He didn't quite understand why, or why there were hands on his back and shoulders.  
  
His side felt wet. Ardeth finally looked down, vaguely aware of Khaldun laughing maniacally in the balcony, and saw the blade sticking out of his body. Dizziness washed over him, and he started to fall, even as O'Connell and the others caught him. Ardeth tried to warn the others, but his lips didn't work, and his body was afire with pain. The only thing he saw was the pure rage in the bright blue eyes of Rick O'Connell. Then darkness swept in, and Ardeth knew no more.  
  
. . .  
  
"The resurrection chamber!"  
  
As they followed the gold-painted woman, Celia glanced at Anatol, who obligingly explained, "She is taking us to the resurrection chamber. According to Med-jai legend, there is a black pool there, the portal between this world and the Underworld. It's where the Creature took the body of Anck-su-namun to bring her back to life, after she took her own. But why would Miranda be there?"  
  
"That is where my love took her, for her own protection. He put wards around the room, to ensure none of Khaldun's men could gain access to the room and harm Miranda. Yes, my love did take her, as a test. He was told that Miranda is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath's daughter Miriam, who died before she had a chance to live. He was also told she was kidnapped by the O'Connells. He was incorrectly informed, of course, but Imhotep sought to atone for his inability to save Miriam," came the reply.  
  
Anck-su-namun turned to face her, her eyes solely on Celia. She studied her face for several moments, whispering, "You are so like my forever friend. You have her face, her spirit, her memories. You. . . you do my sister justice."  
  
Anck-su-namun reached out a hand, as if to touch Celia. The American woman held perfectly still, not wanting to spook the woman, or cause any distress to either of them. But the concubine dropped her hand with a muffled sound of pain. She took a deep breath, saying, "The wards which my love placed around the room cannot harm you, for you are of the same blood as Miranda. And, you do not seek to harm her."  
  
"You have my thanks, Anck. Is there anything else we need to know?" Celia asked softly. Anck looked like she would cry, when Celia called her by that ancient nickname, used by a very special person. But the woman composed herself, her dark eyes flickering briefly to Anatol. A quick glance to Celia's companion and guardian told her why. The young Med-jai was staring at her, as if he wasn't sure what to make of her.  
  
"There is one other thing, a guard to the resurrection chamber. But Imhotep placed him there, the bodily remains of a man who aided Imhotep during his first rising. His name is Beni. Why do you stare at me, Med- jai? Did you truly think I was. . .no. No, I must apologize. Forgive me, young Med-jai, for you are but doing what needs to be done. Forgive me for forgetting how history has remembered me," Anck replied.  
  
Anatol swallowed hard, and Celia said gently, "He's trying, Anck, but as you say, he is remembering history. He doesn't have my memories of being Lady Ardath, nor does he know how you protected her. If the Med-jai elders agree to my wedding to Ardeth, then I will remind the Med-jai of the good and true friend Anck-su-namun was. You have my word on that. Will Beni be a problem for us?"  
  
"Niy. He will not. He has been instructed to let you pass. When Imhotep told him to guard Miranda, he left an image of you in Beni's mind. He knows of your appearance. He will not trouble you. I must go. . .I. . .oh, Isis, no! I must go! But Celia, know this. I will eternally be with you. You have a wonderful child," Anck-su-namun said. She shimmered for a moment, then she disappeared.  
  
Anatol and Celia exchanged a look, and started forth once more, heading for an open doorway, which led down deeper into Hamunaptra. It was guarded by a strange little skeleton, about Celia's own height, maybe a little taller. As the pair approached, the skeleton said with an odd accent Celia couldn't place, "So you are the little one's mother. They told me that you would be here. My work is done, and my redemption begun."  
  
With that strange speech, the skeleton crumpled to the ground with a clatter of bones. Once more, Celia and Anatol exchanged a look, then they entered the resurrection chamber. They were immediately greeted with, "MOMMY!" Celia paused only a moment, as her daughter turned toward her, then raced down the rest of the steps. Miranda jumped down from the table, and met her halfway, throwing herself into Celia's arms. The American woman held her daughter tightly, not caring if anyone saw her tears.  
  
And now Miranda was clinging to her, babbling excitedly, "I knew you would come for me, Mommy, hi Anatol, where's Ardeth? Mommy, how come you never told me that your name used to be Ardath? Anck stayed and kept me company, I have an aunt who's a mummy!" Celia didn't answer, didn't even try to answer. She just wanted to hold her daughter, because if she tried to speak, she would start crying.  
  
She kissed the side of Miranda's head, spinning her daughter around in circles. Miranda pulled back at last, complaining, "Ow, that hurts! Mommy, why are you crying? Did Imhotep hurt you and Ardeth? I was so scared, Mommy, but Imhotep said you weren't really hurt, and that he didn't mean to hurt you, and that you and Ardeth would come for me. He said that a bad man named Khaldun wanted to hurt us."  
  
Celia caught her breath, and started to reply, but a savage cry split the air. The American drew her daughter closer to her own body, her arms closing protectively around Miranda, even as Anatol stepped in front of them both. Miranda fell silent, burying her face in Celia's neck, then all cried out at the worlds which followed, "Ardeth Bey! I call upon you. . .to die!" A half second after that, someone cried out Ardeth's name, and it sounded like Rick O'Connell.  
  
Anatol spun away from the mother and daughter, screaming his brother's name at the top of his lungs. He turned back to face Celia, his dark eyes wide and fearful. She said very quietly, looking at her daughter, "Miranda, honey, I need you to go with Uncle Anatol. Uncle Rick and Aunt Evy will need your help to take care of Ardeth. Can you take care of Ardeth for me?"  
  
"Uh-huh. What are you gonna do, Mommy?" Miranda asked fearfully. Celia smiled at her daughter, feeling a curious strength creep into her body as she realized what she would have to do. Miranda asked next, "Mommy? You are my mommy, aren't you?" The American kissed her daughter's forehead once more, giving the little girl a sweet smile. Yes. Yes, this was what must be done.  
  
"Yes, sweet girl, I'm your mommy. And I'll be just fine. I promise. Your aunt Anck will help me, while you help to take care of Ardeth," Celia replied. Anck and one other. Even now, the last of the barriers came crashing down, and in her mind's eye, Celia could see a younger version of herself, dressed in a white tunic-dress. Lady Ardath. The young concubine was staring at her anxiously.  
  
Celia switched her gaze from her daughter to Anatol, saying, "Take my daughter to safety. Trust me, Anatol?" He nodded, blinking back tears, and for that moment in time, Anatol was no longer a fierce Med-jai warrior, but a frightened young man who faced losing his brother for good this time. Celia smiled as she carefully placed her daughter in his arms, lightly kissing Miranda's forehead, and said, "Go now. You take care of your brother, and I shall deal with mine." It had to be this way, she saw now.  
  
"Aywa," came Anatol's slow response. He was now staring at *her* as if he had never seen her before. Which, Celia supposed, he hadn't. After a moment, he touched his fingers to his lips, saying, "If I may not have you as my wife, I would have you as my sister. Be safe, then, my sister, and may the gods smile upon you." Celia smiled at him, then Anatol quietly carried a subdued Miranda from the resurrection chamber. The American woman closed her eyes, calling upon her memories of Lady Ardath.  
  
Only to find that Lady Ardath was right there. A pair of hazel eyes, just like her own, bored into her own as the concubine said, *Are you willing to trust me, Celia Ferguson? If we are to defeat Khaldun, we must work together. My skills and your cunning. Trust me not to let you fall, for Khaldun has hurt my child for the last time. Hurt *our* children for the last time.*  
  
*For the time it takes to defeat Khaldun, there will be no Celia or Ardath. Just the two of us, fighting as one. I will trust you. I will trust myself,* Celia answered. She was rewarded with a bright smile that looked oddly familiar. But there was no time to think, for the concubine stepped forward and Celia closed her eyes, feeling the change in every part of her body. She was only thirty, but her previous incarnation was ten years younger at the time of her death. Ardath's skills and energy, coupled with Celia's mind.  
  
*We have little time, my spirit twin. Even now, my child is bleeding to death, and Khaldun thinks he has won. Come, we must go,* Ardath told Celia, her voice filled with urgency, *we can acquire a weapon along the way, or Nassor will provide us with one. He always was a better man than he thought.* Celia merely smiled, now focused on dealing with Khaldun. After three thousand years, it was time to pay accounts.  
  
. . .  
  
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. How, exactly, it was supposed to happen, Rick wasn't entirely sure, but not like this. He wasn't supposed to catch Ardeth as he collapsed to the ground, his face ashen rather than bronzed. The tattoos on his forehead and cheeks stood out in stark relief because of his pallor. But everything was all wrong, and Rick didn't know how to make it right.  
  
That was before he saw the knife sticking out of his best friend's body, before the understanding dawned that it connected with the bruise left by Imhotep's kick. The pain alone had to be excruciating, and that wasn't even taking into account the blood loss. Had the knife struck Ardeth's broken ribs? Rick had no way of knowing, but it was all too likely. He resisted the temptation to throw his head back and scream out his grief and fear to the heavens, for it would do no good. None at all.  
  
So, instead, he focused on taking care of Ardeth. He was vaguely aware that Khaldun was around here somewhere, probably heading down from the balcony to finish off Ardeth, assuming he hadn't headed off to deal with Miranda. Rick didn't care. He didn't care about anything right now, except for his family, which included the man whose black robes were even now being soaked with his own blood.  
  
Jonathan was fumbling through the first aid supply bag, the bag filled at Celia's demand. He kept muttering something that Rick couldn't understand, but the stricken look on his face could not be misinterpreted. Every few minutes, he would look at Ardeth, pain all too visible in his eyes. And then the pain would coalesce into rage, and Rick was almost afraid of his brother-in-law during those moments.  
  
Ardeth's head rested now in Evy's lap, her eyes stricken. Now Rick understood why she insisted on coming with them. Even though she did break her promise not to fight, but as she stroked Ardeth's hair, Rick understood she couldn't be anywhere else. She kept telling him that her brother would need her. She was right. Through a fog of grief, Rick became aware of something else.  
  
Fury. Pure, unadulterated fury. The same fury he felt after Evy was taken, after Alex was kidnapped from the double-decker bus. The same fury which led him to attack his best friend. It was that man who was hurt, and Rick could not lash out at him. He wanted to, and he hated himself for that desire. But no. No, he would save his fury for Khaldun, or for Imhotep, who had started this by taking Miranda in the first place.  
  
And once more, Rick's eyes were drawn to Ardeth's face. He lost consciousness almost immediately, and he had a hard time breathing. Rick didn't know if that was because of the pain or if a lung had been punctured. He knelt beside his friend, wanting to do something. He wasn't a healer, and he couldn't take Ardeth's pain away. He could feel Alex's eyes on him, begging him to do *something* to save their friend.  
  
*All at once, he was back at Ahm Shere, holding Evy in his arms, and looking around for Ardeth. Ardeth could make this right, he could tell Rick what to do, how to save her. But the Med-jai chieftain returned to his people, to lead them to Ahm Shere and stand against the Army of Anubis. In the end, all he could do was hold his wife and ask her what did he do now? She answered, 'take care of Alex, I love you,' then died.*  
  
He should deal with Khaldun, should do something to avenge his friend, but Rick found he couldn't even push himself to his feet. He could only stare at Ardeth, this man whom even now, even after seeing him through countless injuries, Rick thought was indestructible. A man whom Rick wasn't entirely sure at times was human. Only now, the last of those doubts were washed away.  
  
Did he think Ardeth invincible, because he survived Hamunaptra and the dynamite? Well, yes, he survived, but Rick now knew that Ardeth would have died without the intervention of his younger brother and one of the Elders. Wasn't it time to see Ardeth as he was, not as Rick wanted him to be?  
  
"What do we do, Mum?" Alex asked in a small voice. His hands were grasping Ardeth's robes. The child looked first at Ardeth, then at his mother, then finally at Rick. The American looked at this child whom he and Evy raised, and realized what a fool he was. Alex was living proof that family had nothing to do with blood. Did the fact that Alex wasn't his son biologically ever stop Rick from loving him or taking care of him?  
  
Of course not. So why should the fact that Ardeth was not related to him by blood mean anything? His eyes met Evy's, and his wife said, "We take care of my brother." Rick nodded solemnly. He was in no mood now to deny what he was or what Ardeth was. Denial only caused himself, and his family, more pain. How much time had he wasted, denying what he was, when he knew in his heart that Ardeth spoke the truth?  
  
"We take care of *our* brother," Rick affirmed, and saw a smile dawning on his wife's lovely face. As if called forth by Rick's statement, the American saw Anatol Bey racing toward them, Miranda clutched in his arms. Anatol's eyes were fixed on something just past Rick, and the American threw himself to the ground. Even as he rolled toward the others, intent on protecting Ardeth, Anatol spoke in ancient Egyptian.  
  
And as Rick rolled to his knees, he had the distinct pleasure of seeing Khaldun, housed in the body of Jason Ferguson, go flying into one of the stone pillars which held up the balcony. Excellent. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy! Anatol fell to his knees beside his brother, saying hoarsely, "Celia is on her way. What happened?" He evidently couldn't see the knife sticking up from his brother.  
  
But before Rick had a chance to educate him, Evy replied, "Khaldun threw a knife into Ardeth's side. We think it's where Imhotep kicked him this afternoon. Miranda, darling, are you all right? Your mum is on her way, would you like to wait with Uncle Jon?" The little girl nodded, her eyes never leaving Ardeth's pale, still face. As Anatol handed Miranda to Jonathan, Rick caught sight of Khaldun pushing himself to his feet.  
  
"It looks like it's up to me," Rick said, nodding toward the man. He pushed himself to his feet, and Anatol caught his wrist. The young Med-jai shook his head and Rick asked impatiently, "What do you suggest, Anatol? I'm it! Jonathan is taking care of Miranda, Evy and Alex are looking after Ardeth, and someone needs to watch over them. And it's time I started paying off my debts to your big brother."  
  
"This is not your fight, O'Connell! You have the worst send of timing I have ever met! The last thing Celia said to me, before I left with Miranda, was that I was to take care of my brother and she would deal with her own. This is for her to decide," Anatol replied urgently. Rick blinked, not entirely believing what he was hearing from the young man. Were they talking about the same Celia here?  
  
"Anatol, I think your worry for Ardeth has warped your brain! Celia shouldn't be underestimated, but she doesn't have the skills to fight that bastard! He'll. . .he'll kill her! Right in front of her own daughter, I should add!" Rick retorted. Anatol was shaking his head.  
  
"La! She is no longer just Celia Ferguson, mother of Miranda. Her memories of Lady Ardath are complete. Trust me! I could see Lady Ardath awakening in her eyes," Anatol replied. Rick just nodded. He would think about this later. But even if Anatol was right, there was still the matter of Khaldun. He was once more approaching the little group, murder in his eyes, and Rick wasn't about to wait around for him to kill them all.  
  
"Stay here and protect your brother. I have work to do," Rick replied. He pushed himself to his feet once more and strode out to meet Khaldun. He immediately hurtled toward the wall. He hit hard, and grunted in pain. But Rick was immediately on his feet once more, feeling a familiar strength flow through him. It was the same thing he felt at Ahm Shere, while fighting for his family. Maybe Khaldun could beat him, and maybe he would, Rick wouldn't make it easy for him. No way in the world.  
  
. . .  
  
She enjoyed her time with Miranda Ferguson, but when she heard Celia's voice at the entrance to Hamunaptra, Anck-su-namun knew it was time to go. She told the little girl, "It is time for me go, little one. Your mother comes, as does Ardeth Bey. They will be home soon, and I must help them find you." Miranda looked sad, and Anck put her finger under the little girl's chin, tipping her head every so slightly.  
  
"Do not be sad, little one. I will always watch over you and your mama. I love you, my niece," Anck told the child. Still, two tears rolled down the small face, and Anck almost fell off the table when Miranda threw her arms around Anck's desiccated body. But she once more steadied herself, and returned the embrace. She whispered once more, "I love you, Miranda, and you will never be without me. I promise you."  
  
"You're gonna help Mommy and Ardeth now?" Miranda asked and Anck nodded. Yes. She could not directly interfere, but she could help Miranda's mother find her. Miranda sighed and whispered, "Okay. But I'll miss you, Aunt Anck." The concubine couldn't find the words she needed, so she satisfied herself with a gentle kiss to her niece's head, then her spirit left her body for the third time.  
  
Upon reaching the treasure room, Anck felt the distrust, the suspicion, even the fear, from all but Ardeth and Celia. Those two were wary, but willing to take a chance. Looking closely at him now, she wondered how she could have ever failed to notice his breathtaking resemblance to Rameses. Anck's eyes smarted with tears, and she prayed for the strength to forgive herself. But for now, she had work to do, and once all were ready, Anck led Celia and Anatol Bey to Miranda's sanctuary.  
  
She was somewhat surprised by how quickly he got over his anger with his brother, when he learned that Ardeth and Celia were informally betrothed. Anck suspected that it was more a matter of hurt pride for Anatol than anything else. Though why it was even that, she really didn't know. How on earth did he miss the passionate kisses exchanged by his older brother and Celia while Celia was still in the encampment?  
  
Perhaps, too, he realized that there were greater things at stake here, far greater than his own hurt pride. As for those disappointed Med- jai maidens who would not take kindly to losing a chance with their chieftain, Anck had faith in the reincarnation of her forever friend. Besides, Anck herself would deal with those women if it became necessary. Not that she *really* thought it would be necessary. However, one thing she learned: it was always good to have a backup plan.  
  
She would have stayed longer; she wanted to stay longer. But then, it happened. She heard the cry, long before the knife even entered Ardeth Bey's right side. The cry came from Mathayus. Anck immediately left the pair, to do what had to be done, and returned to the Place In-Between. It was there that she watched in horror and fury as Khaldun, still using Jason Ferguson's body, threw the knife into Ardeth's body.  
  
*NIY!* she screamed, almost catapulting herself forward into the world of the living again. And once more, Mathayus grabbed her by the waist, even as O'Connell and the other warriors for light surrounded Ardeth Bey protectively. Anck didn't care. She had had enough of this monster, harming her forever friend and those who belonged to Ardath, even thirty centuries later. When she got her hands on that bastard, she'd. . .  
  
*Anck-su-namun, that is enough! There is nothing we can do, it is not in our hands, this is for the mortals! We may not interfere! Anck-su- namun!* Mathayus cried out, his arms tight around her waist. But still she fought him, her guilt giving her greater strength. If only she realized the truth about Ardeth Bey sooner, if only she was wiser three thousand years earlier, if only, if only, if only. . .  
  
So many instances of 'if only.' So many regrets. And in the end, none of them were worth anything. At last, worn out by her struggles and the emotional upheaval caused by one revelation after another, Anck calmed down. But tears continued to pour down her face, and Mathayus said gently, *Nothing is lost, my dear girl. Even now, your forever friend has joined forces with her reincarnation. Khaldun will pay for what he has done, in more ways than one. Did you really think he would not pay for cheating?*  
  
Anck raised her eyes to Mathayus. What was he telling her? She couldn't seem to think at the moment, as grief and guilt impaired her mind. Mathayus just smiled at her very gently and continued, *Khaldun thought he could cheat fate, but he has only sealed his own doom. He will be made to pay for attempting to end Ardeth's life. This I swear to you, Anck-su- namun, in the name of my Cassandra. Even now, Lady Ardath and her reincarnation journey to the ancient room, to challenge Khaldun. Even now, they seek weapons with which they may fight him. Anck-su-namun, the fight has only just begun.*  
  
*Swear to me, Mathayus, swear to me,* Anck hissed, *swear to me that I will at least have a chance to aid my friend, my sister. I do not ask to interfere, I know better. But I want to help her!* Because if she didn't get that chance, Anck would hurt anyone who did hurt her forever friend, be they disappointed Med-jai maidens, or three thousand year old monsters who killed her in their past lives.  
  
*You will have that chance, Anck, so please, do not plan on attacking any disappointed Med-jai maidens when they fail to welcome Celia after her marriage to Ardeth,* Mathayus instructed. Anck pouted, just a little, and Mathayus added with a wicked grin, *Besides. Celia is quite capable of dealing with those young girls herself.* Anck raised her eyebrows. Not because she thought Celia couldn't handle it, but because Mathayus seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in telling her this.  
  
*As long as I have the opportunity to make Khaldun pay, if only a little, though I would prefer a lot. He has three thousand years worth of agony to atone for,* Anck replied grimly. Mathayus just smiled at her, and Anck relaxed. Though she found him annoying during these situation, starting with the moment Rameses and Ardeth found each other once more, Mathayus never lied to her.  
  
*You will have that opportunity, and others, to protect her. For now, you will be needed to help Lady Ardath and Celia find the weapons they will need to challenge Khaldun. A weapon, at least, for they will find another once they reach the ancient chamber where the final confrontation will commence,* Mathayus explained. Anck puzzled her way through that field of words, then had an idea. She remembered coming here once with Ardath, not long after Ardath's first night with Rameses.  
  
She closed her eyes, bringing that memory into sharp focus. They were fifteen years old, only a few weeks after Ardath sprained her ankle. That was why Anck was with her, because Rameses didn't want Ardath to be alone while she was still healing. They walked through the City of the Dead, Anck's arm around the waist of her forever friend, quietly telling the young foreign girl about those buried here.  
  
Anck knelt in the sand beside one wall, digging until she had a good hole. She removed a dagger from her thigh. In those days, she still wore clothing, and she carried a dagger. Anck told her forever friend as she buried both the dagger and its scabbard in the sand, *This is our secret, Ardath. Should either of us ever find ourselves in a position where we need this knife while we are in the City of the Dead, it is here.*  
  
Ardath, who lived in Egypt for most of her life, didn't question why they would need a dagger in the City of the Dead. She simply nodded, understanding that this was a sacred secret between them, and that was far more important than the practicality of a dagger for defense among dead people. Anck opened her eyes, feeling dizzy. Why did she put it there, all those years ago? While Ardath never vocalized the question, Anck knew she thought it. Neither could deny it would be useful now, in the fight to come.  
  
*Come. There is something you should see,* Mathayus said, holding out his hand to her. Anck took the offered hand and allowed him to guide her back to where they watched the drama unfold over the last mortal month. He said softly, *She remembered as well.* Anck swallowed hard as Celia/Ardath knelt beside the place where Anck buried the dagger, three thousand years earlier.  
  
It took little time to unearth the dagger, and Anck watched as the young woman raised it to the light, whispering, "Anck, once more, you have been a true friend. We have little time, so we should go." The concubine fought back tears, and swore once again that she was through with failing her best friend, her sister. Whatever she must do now, she would do. She watched as Ardath/Celia set out for the ancient chamber where Ardeth Bey fought for his life. 


	20. The Showdown

Part Nineteen  
  
She made her way through the corridors, both Celia and Ardath, and neither. The women couldn't have explained this, but it was true. It would have been an oversimplification to say that Celia was the brains and Ardath was the body, though Celia had the cunning needed to defeat Khaldun and Ardath had the physical skills. As they walked, the cool metal of the scabbard reassuring against Celia's thigh, Ardath gave her spirit-twin directions to the chamber.  
  
Celia felt Ardath's quiet rage pulsing in her veins, and if she didn't know that Khaldun hurt the man she loved, she might have felt sorry for him. For her own part, Ardath enjoyed the simple pleasure of breathing, the feel of the air on the nape of her bare neck as they walked through the corridors. Celia drew her hair into a ponytail, but when the fight began, Ardath would remove it. Even now, having her hair pulled back was giving her a headache.  
  
Before they set out from the house, Celia strapped a gun belt to her waist, and the dagger rested in that belt. The rapier was given to Evy before she left with Anatol and Anck-su-namun. Neither she, nor Ardath, was very good with the rapier. Celia used it as a club more than anything else. She had no finesse with that particular weapon, and she would need finesse in the coming fight. Among other things, but being clumsy would likely get her killed in this fight.  
  
A fight she could not lose. Ardath could feel Celia s unease, her nervousness, and did not try to alleviate that. Those nerves, that anticipation, would serve her well and would hone what Ardath's child saw: the ability to see an opening before it opened, or a move before it took place. Ardath merely reaffirmed what she told the older/younger woman before. That she would be here, and that she would not fail Celia.  
  
Just as Jonathan did not fail Ardeth. The young concubine smiled to herself. He was so different from Nassor, but also the same. Whether Jonathan knew it or not, Nassor guided him in Ahm Shere. He did very well at the once-sacred desert, though he only saw his perceived failures. He did not see how well he distracted Meela, or how excellent his throw truly was.  
  
Ardath answered a question posed to her by Celia, as they made their way up into the balcony portion of the ancient chamber, the chamber where Rameses and Khaldun played as children. The chamber where Miriam was conceived, and the old ache returned, though the concubine was reunited with her daughter in the Afterlife. Ardath felt Celia's compassion for her loss. Yet another innocent who suffered because of Khaldun.  
  
From the balcony, she could see Rick O'Connell keeping Khaldun busy, and Ardath wondered if she underestimated him after all. But the thought was only fleeting, for her attention was directed to her child, lying unconscious in the arms of Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell. Nefertiri. She never disliked the young princess, as Anck did, understanding better what drove the girl. At least some things were different in this lifetime.  
  
Celia's heart rate picked up as Ardath carefully ascended the railing of the balcony wall, and for the first time, Ardath realized that her spirit-twin was afraid of heights. Which explained her fear of flying, and it went beyond the simple fear of the unknown. Ardath didn't bother assuaging nervousness, but this was different. She whispered to her spirit twin, //Be easy, Celia, do not be afraid. I will not let you fall.//  
  
//It's not the falling that scares me, m'Lady, it's the landing, even on sand. Do you know how to land when jumping from this height?// came Celia's response. Ardath tried not to smile, knowing that her reincarnation had every right to be worried. Celia was ten years older than Ardath was at the time of her death, and while she was more cunning, she wasn't quite as limber.  
  
//Celia, you will have aches and pains after this jump. About that, I cannot lie. However, I do know how to land. Anck taught me,// Ardath reassured the other young woman. She felt Celia relax a little. It wasn't much, but Ardath knew she couldn't expect a woman to just get over her fear. She continued, //The most important thing to remember is to keep your knees bent when we land. If your legs are straight, the landing will hurt much, much worse.//  
  
//Knees bent, got it. I think, my Lady Ardath, that it's time we made our entrance. Rick looks all done in,// Celia observed. Ardath nodded her agreement as O'Connell struggled to his feet once more. She steadied them both on the balcony railing, feeling a curious calm settle over her. In the back of her mind, she heard Anck encouraging her, telling her to fly free. Ardath smiled, grateful for the encouragement. She and Celia took a deep breath. . .  
  
And Ardath jumped, executing a neat somersault in midair, before landing gracefully. As she suggested, Celia's knees were bent, thus absorbing the impact of the landing. Her timing couldn't have been better. Khaldun approached Rick O'Connell, who was still struggling to get up, and said, 'And now, O'Connell, you can watch my dear cousin die. After I finish with the rest of your family, of course.'  
  
'And of course,' Ardath said coldly, 'that is not something I can permit you to do.' Khaldun froze, then turned in place. O'Connell used that opportunity to drag his tired, battered body away. Ardath smiled at Khaldun, the smile never quite reaching her eyes. She reached behind her to pull the tie from Celia's hair, adding with a mocking half bow, 'If it is Ardeth whom you wish to kill. . .then it is Ardath whom you must face!' It was time to pay accounts!  
  
. . .  
  
As entrances went, Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell thought it was a good one. Her attention was on trying to prevent Ardeth from bleeding to death, and cringing every time Khaldun used his power to knock Rick into the wall. Thus, she wasn't looking up at the balcony overlooking them, until Miranda Ferguson breathed, "Mommy! Look, Anatol, it's Mommy! She's here!"  
  
Evy looked up, to find her best friend astride the balcony railing, her hands out to her sides, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach, because of something which Celia told her. She was terrified of heights. But her face was a calm mask, betraying nothing of what she felt. And Evy wondered, as she remembered something which Anatol told them earlier.  
  
Her suspicions were proved correct a moment later, as the young woman lunged forward, propelling herself into empty air. She executed a neat somersault before landing cat-like on her feet. Evy caught her breath, watching the woman now stalking toward Khaldun. Celia's hazel eyes burned with banked fury. Three thousand years worth of fury, and Evy released her breath once more. It wasn't Celia, or rather, wasn't *just* Celia, but Lady Ardath as well.  
  
Khaldun wasn't paying attention to them. He was focused only on Rick. As her husband struggled to get to his feet, Khaldun said with a malevolent smile, "And now, O'Connell, you can watch my dear cousin die. After I finish with the rest of your family, of course." Evy smiled grimly, her eyes never leaving the quiet woman approaching Khaldun from behind, thinking, //if Ardeth was conscious, he would have answered that with an 'I think not.'//  
  
The response given by his namesake/betrothed was quite satisfactory, however. Ardath/Celia replied coldly, "And of course, that is not something I can permit you to do." Evy had the distinct pleasure of seeing Khaldun's astonishment when he heard her voice. The prince froze where he stood, then very carefully turned around, until his back was to Evy and Ardeth. Rick wisely took the chance given and returned to them.  
  
Ardath/Celia smiled at Khaldun, the smile never quite reaching her eyes. She reached behind her to pull the tie from Celia's hair, allowing it to fall about her shoulders. Ardath always fought with her hair loose about her shoulders, something that always drove both Anck-su-namun and Rameses absolutely mad. The young woman added as she swept a mock-bow, 'If it is Ardeth whom you wish to kill. . .then it is Ardath whom you must face!'  
  
'Lady. . .Ardath,' Khaldun all but growled, disdain dripping from every syllable. Evy felt a sudden chill make its way down her spine, and she was overcome with a sense of deja vu. This felt so familiar, but from where? Was it her own confrontation with Anck-su-namun inside Ahm Shere? Ardeth moaned softly and Evy touched his face without really thinking about it, wanting to soothe him before he drew Khaldun's attention to them.  
  
That fear was driven away as the young woman in front of her replied, inclining her head in a tiny, regal nod of acknowledgment, her voice filled with no less scorn, 'Khaldun.' Evy knew then the reason for her deja vu. . .except for the players, it was a mirror image of the confrontation between Lock-nah and Ardeth in Evy's house, only a few months earlier. Right down to the mask now being worn by Evy's friend. The Englishwoman saw that expression on Ardeth's face as well, and wondered if that was an accident.  
  
As her fingers lightly stroked Ardeth's black hair, a familiar wind swept over her, and once more, she saw into her past as Nefertiri. //The young princess found herself both in and out of the royal nursery, where her nephew now slept. Nefertiri kept trying to force herself to move forward, to join her father and her brother, but the naked grief of the prince kept her firmly in place. Their father watched him in silence, and only Nefertiri could sense his grief.  
  
'I have decided his name will be Ardeth. . .after his mother. A-r-d- e-t-h. He will never be safe as a member of our family, Father. Not as the son of a concubine. I have decided to give the Med-jai another chance to atone for their failure, but only one Med-jai. Shakir Bey, the boy who told me of Khaldun's treachery. He has already agreed to raise my child, for he loved my Ardath as well,' Rameses told their father.  
  
His voice was tight and strained with grief, and Seti put his hand on his son s shoulder. He said softly, 'I am not sure if this is the course to take, my son. . .but know that you have my support, and my grief. I loved her, too, Rameses. And if she was a princess in name as well as in spirit, then it would have given me great pleasure to allow your wedding to go forth. But you know as well as I do, my son, that politics would not allow that.'  
  
Rameses nodded and Seti continued, slipping his hand around the back of the young man's neck, 'But know this, my son. The name 'Ardeth Bey' will long be remembered among the Med-jai, and honored. Your son and his descendents will not become pharaohs, but they will become princes and kings among men. Your son will do honor to the woman who gave him birth. Imhotep has foreseen it, though not how it will take place.'  
  
Rameses gently caressed the top of his son's head, then turned to face his father. Seti's face crumpled, seeing his child's grief, and enveloped him in a fierce embrace. Rameses gave a strangled sob, and Nefertiri felt tears running unchecked down her face, tears which she held back for days. Nefertiri's brother now sobbed helplessly in their father's arms, and Nefertiri understood that her life would never be the same.//  
  
'Mum?' Alex whispered, drawing Evy back to herself. The Englishwoman looked at her son, and saw that the child looked worried. Evy gave Alex a gentle smile, caressing his hair with her free hand, struggling to find the words that would explain to her son what happened, and why it happened. Only now did she understand the full truth of Ardeth's observation that things were preordained thousands of years earlier. Yes. Now she understood.  
  
'She's Ardeth's ancestress, Alex,' Evy told her son softly, 'Lady Ardath, mother of Ardeth Bey, first chieftain of the Med-jai. Previous incarnation of Celia Ferguson, two souls in one body, for the time it takes to finish this." And still the two stared at each other, making Evy wonder if any time at all passed. Khaldun growled something in ancient Egyptian, which she couldn't quite make out, and Celia/Ardath just smiled, dark brows lifting almost in amusement.  
  
But Evy could see the hatred in her eyes. Beside her, Jonathan rose to his feet. He plucked a staff from the golden statue behind them and hurtled it toward Celia/Ardath. He cried as the young woman snapped it out of the air, reverting to ancient Egyptian, 'Here, Ardath! Arm thyself, my queen!' Once more, she inclined her head, now in gratitude. Her face was expressionless, but her hands were in motion. Tap, tap, tap went the staff on the outside of one boot. Tap, tap, tap, on the outside of the other boot, then reversed, the calm, stoic mask in place. Jonathan whispered, reverting to English, 'There's a good girl. . .you've forgotten nothing.'  
  
He was right. Khaldun lunged forward with a cry of fury. Ardath brought up her staff to meet his strike, her lips peeling back into a feral grin that Evy recognized. Anck-su-namun was not Ardath's only teacher. She had one other. Rameses himself, who taught her the value of such a move. Rick whispered, "Uh, guys, do you really think she can handle him?"  
  
'She can,' Evy reaffirmed as Ardath blocked each strike, 'You forget, Rick. . .Khaldun is facing two very angry women. One of whom has three thousand years worth of rage against him, and the other who has grudges of her own. His kidnapping of Celia's daughter, his attack and violation of Ardeth, as well as separating Lady Ardath from her infant son.' She stopped, looked at her husband, and said very calmly, 'She'll be just fine.'  
  
. . .  
  
//She'll be just fine.//  
  
Rick O'Connell could say nothing to this bold statement, especially since it was Evy who was making it. And after everything Rick and his family went through, he wasn't about to argue. Every time he argued with her, or with Ardeth, they were right. Ardeth. Rick looked at his friend. He wasn't doing so good, but Rick asked anyhow, 'How is he?' Evy looked down at their friend. She was afraid Ardeth wouldn't make it, and so was Rick. Ardeth's face grew even paler while Rick was facing Khaldun, and a sheen of sweat appeared on the Med-jai s face.  
  
'He's bleeding to death, Rick. We keep putting bandages on it, but. . .' Evy replied, giving a helpless little shrug. But Ardeth was running out of time. Rick felt an awful and all-too-familiar helplessness washing over him. He put his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, wishing there was some way he could at least buy his friend some time. Wishing. . .agh, GOD! The one man whom Rick always trusted to fix whatever was wrong, was the one in need of fixing.  
  
'C'mon, buddy. . .you gotta pull through for us, one more time. One more time, Ardeth, and I swear we'll never make your life difficult again. You can't do this to us. . .you can't do this to Celia! She's waited three thousand years for you, and you just can't disappoint her like that! She's fighting for you, Ardeth, for all of us! Now you have to fight. If you need my strength, then you've got it. . .all of it, whatever you need. Just hold on!' Rick whispered.  
  
With his free hand, he took Ardeth's own hand, holding it tightly. He saw the rest of his family, and Ardeth's, following suit. Evy continued to caress Ardeth's hair, and Alex moved closer to the Med-jai, never releasing his robes, while Miranda, Jonathan, and Anatol formed a protective semi-circle around Ardeth. It was fitting, when he thought about it. This man protected them so often. It was their turn to protect him.  
  
And then Rick saw something out of the corner of his eye. Half of his attention was on the fight, and he had to admit that Ardath/Celia/whoever the hell she was, was giving a pretty good account of herself. Although, after seeing her fight, he had a hard time believing that Celia was anywhere in there. The moves were too graceful, too practiced, too polished. And the other half of his attention was devoted to. . .  
  
Imhotep. Rick growled deep in his throat, seeing the man responsible for so much pain. Miranda saw him as well. She cried out, 'IMHOTEP! Ardeth needs your help, you gotta save him!' Rick whipped his head around to look at the child. Was she nuts? Imhotep? Help them? What the hell did to that little girl after the kidnapping? The mummy drew closer, and now Rick saw that his wife and Ardeth were right. Again. Imhotep DID have hair.  
  
'This is not my fight, child. Ardeth Bey is nothing to me. I have returned you to your mother, and she is now fulfilling her destiny with Khaldun's downfall. My part in this is finished,' Imhotep replied. Rick glanced at Miranda, who was staring at the mummy with the most hurt look the American ever saw or dreamed possible. Tears trickled down her face, and the mummy actually looked uncomfortable.  
  
As if that wasn't weird enough, Ardeth moaned aloud, his head thrown back, his back arching from the pain. That wasn't the weird part. . .that was to be expected. Rick grabbed his friend, intent on making sure he didn't hurt himself worse, and froze at Ardeth's fevered mumblings. He was speaking in ancient Egyptian, as if the fever caused from his injuries shattered the last barrier between his earlier life and his current.  
  
Rameses was addressing Imhotep, speaking of his daughter's death, and acknowledging his grief, his rage, his fear that he would kill the responsible parties. There was a faint pause, as Rick gently kneaded Ardeth's shoulder through his robes, then Ardeth whispered once more in ancient Egyptian, his lips quirking, 'Ahhh, that is true, my friend, but have we not established already that you are a better man than I?'  
  
That part of Rick that was Terumun cried out, remembering this joke between the prince and the priest. It was that part of him which made him look up, right into the startled eyes of Imhotep. The mummy choked out, 'Rameses?' O'Connell caught Imhotep's eye and nodded very slowly. Yes. It was Rameses, reborn. Imhotep's face twisted into a furious mask, and he hissed, 'Niy. He is Med-jai, he cannot be Rameses.'  
  
'Think again. . .old friend,' Rick heard and turned to face Lady Ardath. Just past her, he saw Khaldun writhing in agony. Rick didn't know what she did, but it obviously hurt! The girl noticed his questioning look, shrugged, and said, 'That was the first move Anck taught me. So. You have returned, Imhotep, and as you did after I left the mortal world, you do not honor your promise. So much for your word. So much for your joke that you were the better man than my love!' The last few words were spat out, her eyes reflecting contempt for Imhotep.  
  
'Lady Ardath,' he breathed and the girl inclined her head, her eyes blazing. Imhotep glared right back, retorting, 'What would you have me do? Save this Med-jai? This Med-jai who has imprisoned me for three thousand years, who turned me into a monster?' Rick risked a quick glance at Evy, who folded her arms protectively around Ardeth's body. Anatol, Miranda, Jonathan, and Alex all scooted closer as well.  
  
'I think not. . .you were a monster before the hom-dai was cast! He is not the one who cast the hom-dai, Imhotep. Not that you care. You never cared about Rameses. . .if you did, you would have kept your promise to look after him! I could not even trust you to do that! My love *needed* you, and you failed him! Understand me, Imhotep, if my child dies, you will be next. Only what I will do to you will make the hom-dai look like NOTHING!' Lady Ardath fired back.  
  
'I would listen to her, if I were you, Imhotep,' Evy said calmly, looking away from Ardeth long enough to deliver this message, 'remember, even as you taught some spells to Anck-su-namun, so too, did she teach spells to Ardath. And she was raised by the Hebrews, if you'll recall. She has it within her power to destroy you for all eternity, or to set you free.' Her eyes met Ardath's, and the other young woman nodded.  
  
'Is this true? If I can buy the Med-jai some time, would you break the hom-dai?' Imhotep asked. She simply looked at him, and Rick glanced uneasily toward Khaldun, wondering why Khaldun no longer wore Jason Ferguson's face. The man was pushing himself into a sitting position, and Rick knew their grace period was almost at an end. //Okay, m'lady,// he thought, unconsciously using Terumun's nickname for her, //finish this up anytime now!//  
  
'How many times, great priest, in the five years you knew me, did I break my word? To Rameses or to Anck-su-namun? NEVER!' came the determined answer, and Rick winced at the contempt in her voice as she said, 'great priest.' Ardath continued, 'I promise you, if you buy my child even a few hours, I will break the hom-dai. But if you betray me, I will carry out my other promise.' Imhotep needed only a moment to think about it. Well, he wasn't totally stupid.  
  
And, it was fortunate, because it was then that Khaldun attacked from behind. However, Ardath threw her staff up to block the strike, tapping her staff against his sword a second time, then rolled on her back to kick him in the face. He went staggering back, and Ardath executed a backward roll, lifting her staff into the air, even as she rolled to her knees. Rick muttered, 'And she said she wasn't a good fighter?'  
  
'She was never as good as Anck-su-namun, or even Nefertiri, but she could hold her own. Plus, while Anck-su-namun was her primary teacher, Rameses also taught her several moves,' Evy answered quietly. She flashed Rick a half-smile, adding, 'I'm sure you'll recognize the ones I mean.' Rick did, indeed, and Evy continued quietly, 'And she'll be very careful to make sure that not even one strike gets through.'  
  
'Like you said, Evy,' Jonathan said, his tone unusually serious as Imhotep scooted closer to have a look at Ardeth, 'She'll be just fine. She's waited three thousand years for this moment, and one thing my queen has always been is patient.' Rick could only stare as the battle continued between the two ancient enemies: a jealous prince who wanted what he could not have, and a young concubine whose life he snuffed out.  
  
. . .  
  
'He was stabbed where you kicked him.'  
  
The words were a combination of statement and accusation, but Evy could barely concentrate on the fight in front of her, much less her son's accusing tone as he stared across Ardeth's limp body at Imhotep. Ardeth was leaving them. She could feel his spirit pulling away. But he would not go without her. She would stay here, at least for the moment. . .but if he needed her, she would go to him.  
  
Alex continued, still staring at Imhotep accusingly, 'You hurt him. He was just trying to protect Celia and Miranda, and you hurt him.' Imhotep looked up from his examination of Ardeth's wound, a strange expression on his face. Evy would have stopped her son, but she was drawn further away from him and Rick. Perhaps it was her bond with Ardeth as his sister, perhaps it was the times he saved her life and the life of her son.  
  
But she didn't fight it. She trusted Ardath/Celia to deal with Khaldun. She trusted Rick, Anatol, and Jonathan to take care of the children and Ardeth's physical body. Evy closed her eyes, following him to wherever he was. As she reached her destination, she found Ardeth at the portal to the Afterlife. She remembered it, she was there before.  
  
What she didn't expect to see was Meela Nais standing in front of him defiantly. Her hands rested on her hips, saying, 'You may not pass, Ardeth Bey!' One hand was removed from her hip, and her arm outstretched in front of her. Her palm was raised, and if Ardeth took another step forward, her hand would have been against his chest. Meela looked as she did the first time Evy saw her in the British Museum.  
  
'I do not recognize your authority here, Meela Nais,' Ardeth answered coolly, and Evy smiled, recognizing that tone. Still, Meela did not move, her eyes blazing defiantly. Ardeth slipped to one side, to bypass her, but Meela promptly moved in the same direction, at the same time. Ardeth's body stiffened, and Evy watched in silence as he shifted in the opposite direction, only to have Meela cut off his passage once more.  
  
'Do not be afraid, Ardeth Bey,' a man's voice rumbled and Evy turned to face the newcomer. Wasn't that. . .? The man looked at her, inclining his head, and said gently, 'Nor should you fear me, Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell. Or, as you have been known. . .Nefertiri. I do not seek to harm you or your brother.' Ardeth turned, his eyes registering shock at Evy's appearance. She smiled at him. . .where else would she be? He needed her. She was here.  
  
'Then why are we here? I am here because my brother needs me, and I shall stand at my brother's side, but why is Ardeth here?' Evy questioned. What appeared to be the human version of the Scorpion King inclined his head with a faint smile. Maybe Evy was mistaken. After all, what she saw in Ahm Shere was somewhat jumbled. She died and came back to life, almost witnessed the death of her beloved husband, and then almost died a second time herself.  
  
'Your brother is here, Princess, because Khaldun cheated. He was supposed to face Ardeth Bey in combat, to settle accounts for three thousand years worth of hatred. However, he cheated, something at which Khaldun excels. He cheated, three thousand years ago, when he murdered Lady Ardath. I should have anticipated that he would cheat when facing her distant grandson and namesake,' the man replied.  
  
'Then I am to be given an opportunity to face Khaldun?' Ardeth asked. The man inclined his head, and Ardeth hissed, 'I accept!' The man grinned with anticipation, and Ardeth continued, sounding puzzled, 'But I do not know you. Who are you, that you would give me this opportunity? Are you a god? You do not wear the raiment of a god, and yet you brought us here.' Evy looked at their host expectantly, quite interested in his explanation.  
  
'I am no god, Ardeth Bey, only a man who committed terrible deeds. But a goddess took pity on me, granting me an opportunity for absolution and redemption. An opportunity I took, and have not held any regrets since. In my life, I was called Mathayus. As penance, I was granted the privilege of watching over you and your beloved, with the concubine Anck-su- namun at my side,' the man replied.  
  
'The Scorpion King,' Ardeth breathed, and the man called 'Mathayus' nodded. Ardeth went on, 'I cannot question the judgment of the gods. I have committed terrible deeds. Do you swear to me, man to man, warrior to warrior, that you do not seek to harm me and mine?' Evy understood what Ardeth was doing. He was granting his own absolution to Mathayus. And despite what happened inside the pyramid at Ahm Shere, Evy was proud of her brother again.  
  
'In the name of my Cassandra, I do swear. Meela Nais agreed to bar your way from the Afterlife. She was used by Hafez and Lock-nah. They told her that the reincarnation of her forever friend was left to die in Hamunaptra, seven years ago. Thus her vendetta against Evelyn O'Connell,' Mathayus explained. Evy unconsciously rubbed her abdomen and looked at Meela. The former Scorpion King continued, 'She wished to make amends for her crimes.'  
  
'EXCUSE ME?' Meela blurted out, and Mathayus turned a deadly glare on the woman. She promptly shut up, and Evy held back a grin of triumph. A part of her wanted to stick her tongue out. But she didn't, though not because Meela was glaring daggers at her. Evy simply folded her arms over her chest, seeing the difference between Meela and Anck-su-namun. Imhotep was right. Meela was only the reincarnation of Anck-su-namun in body.  
  
'Are you ready, Ardeth?' Mathayus asked, turning his attention back to Evy's brother. The Med-jai nodded, and with a wave of his hand, a spirit form of Khaldun arrived, sword in hand. They were not dead, because this was not the Afterlife. Mathayus, hearing her thoughts, answered, 'Anck-su-namun and I both call this, the Place In-Between. It is as good a name as any.' Evy nodded her agreement as the former Scorpion King stepped to her side.  
  
Khaldun hissed, his eyes flashing, 'I thought I took care of you once, but no matter. I shall kill you, just as I shall kill your whore.' But if he thought he could goad Ardeth into attacking him, as he goaded Rameses, than he was badly mistaken. Ardeth merely smiled very coldly. Meela quickly got out of the way as Ardeth circled around Khaldun.  
  
Evy's brother hissed, 'I think not,' and it was all Evy could do to keep from smiling with pride. She knew her brother was one of the finest warriors ever produced by the Med-jai. She also knew Khaldun to be a coward. The only thing that frightened her was that Ardeth would expect fairness. Then she shook her head at her own foolishness. She *really* should have known better. She saw him fight, after all, and she knew he could fight dirty.  
  
Mathayus sighed, 'Why oh why do people always underestimate that man? Is it because he is young? Or is it because he does not take pleasure in killing? Khaldun underestimates him, just as Anck-su-namun did in the beginning, just as your husband does on occasion. Quite frankly, it wears on my nerves. I will be honest with you, Evelyn, your husband was never the greatest threat to the ambitions of Hafez and Lock-nah. He was a mere nuisance.'  
  
'But the nuisance who ultimately. . .' Evy began, then frowned. How exactly did she say this? Was he dead? She shook her head and finished, 'he was the nuisance who ultimately put an end to the Army of Anubis during this Year of the Scorpion.' She nodded and Mathayus simply grinned at her, allowing her to see the man whom he was at one time. He referred to Cassandra, the woman he loved, and Evy could see why she loved him.  
  
But her attention was drawn back to her brother and his enemy, as Khaldun taunted, 'Are you sure you can defeat me? Are you sure you wish to face me alone, cousin?' As expected, he attacked first, without fully taking Ardeth's measure, just as he did with Lady Ardath and Celia. In less time than it took for Evy to take a breath, Ardeth's scimitar was out, blocking the strike. Did Khaldun always make the same move? Did he always make the same mistakes?  
  
She had to laugh when Ardeth fired back, delivering a strike of his own, 'Coming from you, the murderer of innocent women, that is almost funny. . .cousin.' Khaldun growled, deep in his throat, and lunged for Ardeth, only to find that Evy's brother was no longer there. Ardeth spun out of the way, launching a kick to Khaldun's posterior as he did. The lesser prince stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he hurtled into the Afterlife and judgment.  
  
Khaldun whipped around, his eyes blazing at Ardeth's mocking smile. The Med-jai chieftain said, his voice ripe with false sympathy, 'It seems you are as clumsy and inept now as you were three thousand years ago. Then again, you never were a match even for my ancestress and namesake in a fair fight. It must have been galling. My friend O'Connell has a saying for her ease in beating you. As he would say, she truly kicked your ass, did she not?'  
  
Evy clapped her hand over her mouth, trying desperately not to laugh. That was the second time in a matter of hours that she heard Ardeth say that. Khaldun roared with fury and attacked, hacking at Ardeth. Her brother countered each move smoothly, knocking Khaldun's sword to one side before delivering a snapping kick to the other man's face. Evy saw that kick in the oasis of Ahm Shere, during his confrontation with Lock-nah. She only hoped that Celia/Ardath was doing so well against Khaldun in the physical plane.  
  
. . .  
  
She was doing quite well, in Rick's opinion. No strikes were allowed past, though on occasion, the force of a strike knocked her on her butt. Still, if there were cuts, they were small ones, on her arms and legs. Celia ducked Khaldun's sword, using her smaller height to her own advantage, battering him about his sides with her staff. Twice, she kneed him in the groin, and Rick winced. She definitely wasn't at full strength when she did the same to Ardeth.  
  
Ever so often, Rick would glance away from Ardath/Celia, to make sure Ardeth was still alive. His head lay in Evy's lap, his eyes closed and his face still terribly pale. Still, his friend's chest rose and fell. For now. Imhotep said, 'I can repair the damage done to his internal organs, and stop the bleeding inside.' He looked up, his face solemn, and continued, 'I cannot replace the blood already lost, nor can I take away his fever. Infection has set in, and while I cleaned that, fever is still burning. I will do what I can, Terumun. Do you think I enjoy what I am?"  
  
'As a matter of fact, yes, I do. I think you enjoyed watching your bitch stab my wife, and I think you enjoyed letting your men kidnap and threaten my son. And I think that if Ardath hadn't threatened you, you would have enjoyed watching my friend die,' Rick fired back. Imhotep said nothing, responding only with a glare. He glanced briefly at Miranda, whose head turned from her mother to Ardeth and back again.  
  
'Think as you will, Terumun. Once, we were friends. Once, you were the lone voice of reason among the Med-jai, once you argued against the casting of the hom-dai. We were not always enemies. We did not always seek to kill each other. I did not ask to come back this time. Khaldun's followers killed an innocent man, whose only crime was his resemblance to me, and then animated his body with my spirit,' Imhotep replied.  
  
'Yes, yes, we know all that, this is all ancient history. Now do be quiet and take care of Ardeth. That goes for you as well, Rick, stop distracting him,' Jonathan said impatiently. Rick glared at his brother-in- law, only to receive a glare in return. But it wasn't just Jonathan glaring back at him, it was Nassor. Jonathan added, 'Just remember, Imhotep. You underestimated Ardath in the past. I wouldn't recommend it this time.'  
  
Imhotep turned his attention back to his work, and Rick asked softly, 'Jonathan, do you see what I'm seeing?' Jonathan looked from Imhotep, to the battle now taking place in front of them, and gave an audible gulp. Okay, that was definitely Jonathan's reaction. And yeah, he thought so as well. Rick said softly, 'Evy said that Khaldun was facing two angry women, one of whom has three thousand years worth of rage. But he's tiring too easily.'  
  
'That's 'cause he's fighting Ardeth someplace else. . .Aunt Evy is with them, too. It was really funny, Uncle Rick, 'cause Ardeth said a bad word. He said that Mommy is really beating that mean man who stabbed Ardeth, but that's not how he said it,' Miranda giggled. Fighting Ardeth somewhere else. This little girl was seriously freaking Rick out, because just how in the hell did she know all this? A strangled gasp from Imhotep drew Rick's attention.  
  
He would have asked about that, but a cry returned his attention to the combatants. It took his gut a moment to catch up with his brain. It wasn't Celia who cried out. It was Khaldun. Celia just knocked his sword out of his hand. He dove for it, but a sharp kick sent it spinning away from his grasp, then another kick landed in Khaldun's groin. Ow. She liked using that move. Anatol whispered approvingly, 'Well done, my sister, well done!'  
  
'Question,' Rick said, his eyes never leaving the two people now staring at each other, waiting for the next round to begin, 'not once has Khaldun tried to throw Celia. . .Ardath. . . whatever her name is, into a wall. Why is that?' He paused, realizing he never asked a very important question, and added, 'And when did Jason start looking like Khaldun?'  
  
'Anck-su-namun did that,' Anatol replied almost absently, 'at the beginning of the fight. She did that so Celia could see her enemy, rather than her brother. Actually, that is not the proper way to say that. She cast a spell, so Celia could see through Khaldun's illusion.' Oh, that made sense. Sort of. The young Med-jai continued, looking warily at Imhotep, 'And he cannot use his powers against Lady Ardath or Celia, because Lady Ardath is no longer of this world.'  
  
'Nice trick, do you know what Miranda means about Ardeth fighting Khaldun in another place?' Rick asked. Ardeth was silent now, aside from his harsh breathing. Rick looked away from the fight, long enough to see that despite Imhotep's healing, Ardeth was still failing. Rick swallowed hard. He wasn't ready to lose Ardeth. Not like this, not now, maybe not ever.  
  
'He fights Khaldun in a place in-between. I am Keeper of the Dead, or I was as a high priest. I walk in both worlds. I can see the battle waged there, just as I can here,' Imhotep replied quietly. He looked at Ardeth with an unreadable expression, saying softly, 'There, he is as he was three thousand years ago, when his concubine died in his arms. And your wife is attired as Nefertiri, as she was the night of Seti's death.'  
  
Imhotep looked up, a faint smile teasing the edges of his mouth, as he said, 'Your son once told me, Terumun, that you would kick my ass. I believe, if I understand this term correctly, that this is exactly what Rameses is doing to Khaldun as we speak.' Rick thought about that for a moment, looked over at where Khaldun was still trying to force himself into a standing position after another kick to his crotch.  
  
Then he looked back at Ardeth, smiled proudly, and replied, 'I wouldn't expect anything else. Hang tight, buddy, it's almost over.' A quick glance over at his son told him that Alex was beaming at their Med- jai friend, and the little boy entangled his fingers with Ardeth's own. Rick looked back at Imhotep, saying, 'You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you were pleased about Ardeth kicking Khaldun's ass.'  
  
'I am. Just as I am pleased that Lady Ardath and her reincarnation are doing the same in the physical world. I once misjudged Lady Ardath as being weak and insipid, however, I never believed her to be a liar. She has said she will set me free if I heal this reincarnation of Rameses, and I believe she will. However, she cannot do that if she is dead. Therefore, it is in my best interests to wish she does well,' Imhotep replied calmly.  
  
Rick believed him. He would have never believed Imhotep, if he claimed altruistic reasons. However, Rick was distracted once again by the drama in front of him. Jonathan whispered as Khaldun *finally* pushed himself to his feet, and Ardath tossed her staff aside, 'We begin once more.' Actually that wasn't entirely accurate. . .the part about Ardath tossing her staff to one side, at least.  
  
Instead, the concubine planted her staff in the middle of the sand, then grabbed it and swung around, using her momentum to kick Khaldun hard in the face. The kick had the desired effect, knocking him several feet backwards, and Jonathan said with a pleased grin, 'As I said, she has remembered everything.' Rick just hoped it would be enough.  
  
. . .  
  
Anck-su-namun spent the last several moments, watching over Celia and Ardath. Mathayus was with Ardeth, fulfilling the promise he made, that the Med-jai would have an opportunity to face the coward in combat. Anck knew the trollop Meela was enlisted to help, but she didn't allow herself to think about that. If she did, she would be sorely tempted to leave her post and rip out Meela's eyeballs. That would do Ardath and Celia absolutely no good.  
  
Instead, Anck delighted in watching as her forever friend and Celia beat Khaldun badly. She actually found herself jumping up and down, squealing, 'Get him, Celia! Get him, my sister! Make him pay for what he did to you! Oh, excellent hit! The first thing I taught you, and you still remember! I am so proud of you, my sister!' She was particularly proud of the last move she saw from her sister: planting the staff, then using it as an anchor as she kicked out.  
  
Trusting in her sister and Celia to be all right for a few moments, she chose to check on the others. And she had to trust them. If Khaldun managed to land even one blow, there was a good chance the pair wouldn't get up again. She had to believe in them, there was no other choice. Besides. Dividing his power was wearying Khaldun, and even now, he was staggering around, while his opponent was still practically quivering with unreleased energy.  
  
Next, Anck switched her attention to Imhotep, the first time she really looked at him since the beginnings of the fights. Tears clouded her vision for a moment, and she blinked back the moisture desperately. She could not cry now! Those whom she loved, they needed her to be strong. They needed her to be the strong, brave, loyal Anck-su-namun she was once, the Anck who loved Imhotep and Ardath with every fiber of her being.  
  
But she missed Imhotep, even in the short time she was away from him. Just as she had during the last few mortal weeks with Ardath and Celia, Anck wanted to reach out to her beloved, wanted to touch his face. Even as he fought to save Ardeth's life (and Anck was proud of her forever friend for that as well. It was long past time Imhotep recognized just how ruthless Ardath herself could be), Anck wanted to go to Imhotep, put her arms around him. . .  
  
But, no. That could not be, not now, and perhaps not ever. So, she finally looked in on Ardeth and Khaldun, to find the namesake of her sister doing *very* well. During the last few minutes, the young chieftain maneuvered Khaldun into position. Anck doubted very much if Khaldun even realized what Ardeth was doing. He wasn't very smart, as well as being a coward. However, that cowardice was part of what made him so dangerous.  
  
Anck held her breath as Khaldun was finally maneuvered into the place where Ardeth wanted him, right in front of the portal to the Underworld. He could have pushed Khaldun through that portal ages ago. Anck knew that. The angles at which they fought, Ardeth had plenty of opportunities to do just that. He was playing with Khaldun, drawing out the fight, just as Khaldun drew out the torture of the Med-jai warriors who died here in Hamunaptra.  
  
Anck could see them gathering now, at the portal, and her breath caught in her throat. He was waiting on the spirits of his men to find their places. And once Khaldun passed through that portal, the Med-jai would act as servants of Anubis, now in his role as the god of the dead, and would conduct Khaldun once more to Ma'at. His heart would be weighed, and then he would be fed to the crocodiles.  
  
Oh yes. Ardeth Bey knew *exactly* what he was doing. He hissed, lashing out with a kick that dropped Khaldun to the ground, 'That was for O'Connell.' Anck nodded her approval as Khaldun got to his feet, his hand pressed against his chest. He didn't stay upright for long, as Ardeth lashed out, this time kicking Khaldun in the face, adding, 'That was for the Med-jai whom you tortured and murdered.'  
  
Good. If Ardeth hadn't done that, Anck would have. She would have been much nastier about it. Ardeth knocked the sword out of Khaldun's hand, or rather, cut it off at the wrist. Fitting punishment for a thief, and Ardeth growled, 'That was for kidnapping and frightening Miranda.' Even better, justice for her treasured little niece. Anck decided she would tell Celia/Ardath, to save them oxygen when that moment came in their own confrontation.  
  
But Ardeth saved the best for last. He kicked the sword away from Khaldun, not that the coward could pick it up, then seized him by the shoulder. Ardeth ran him through, hissing, 'And that was for kidnapping and almost killing Celia!' He removed his sword from Khaldun's midsection, shoving him backwards, toward the waiting Med-jai. Khaldun screamed and kicked, but it was no use.  
  
Ardeth chanted, 'I bind you, Khaldun, for this lifetime! Never again shall you harm me, my people, or my Celia. I reject you, Khaldun, for this lifetime and all those lifetimes yet to come! No more shall you use that which is mine. I condemn you, Khaldun, to the justice of the gods! May they have mercy on you, for I shall not!' With a final scream, Khaldun disappeared, along with the Med-jai who bore him away.  
  
Ardeth fell to his knees, breathing heavily, and Anck's heart contracted. Was he wounded while she wasn't looking? Why was he behaving like this? Anck watched him anxiously, her throat tightening at his soft moans of pain. Mathayus murmured, //He is being called back to his physical body. That is the reason for his weakness now. Make ready, Anck- su-namun. It is time for you to face your forever friend.//  
  
Anck's breath caught in her throat, even as she watched Evelyn O'Connell fall to her knees beside Ardeth, embracing him fiercely. Ardeth leaned heavily against her, his head coming to rest against her shoulder. It was almost time for her to face Ardath. Was she ready? For the first time in many years, Anck was ashamed. How could she face Ardath, after everything she did? After everyone she hurt?  
  
The answer came to her, almost immediately. She would apologize, starting with Nefertiri. Anck slowly walked to Nefertiri, and her former student looked up. But for the first time in three thousand years, there was no hatred, anger, or resentment. Still, Anck fell slowly to her knees in front of this woman whom she hurt, many times over. She bowed her head and said softly, 'I ask for your forgiveness, Nefertiri.'  
  
'You have it, Anck-su-namun. I know now that you did not attempt to destroy me. I forgive you for killing my father, for causing the pain you did to my brother. Not all of this was of your making, and you sought to free yourself the only way you know how. And, you have done much to atone. The question now becomes, Anck-su-namun, can you forgive yourself?' Nefertiri replied, her dark eyes focused intently on the concubine's face.  
  
'I cannot forgive myself, until Ardath forgives me. I hurt her most of all. Go, Nefertiri, and take Rameses with you. Take Ardeth with you, for he does not belong here. Neither of you do,' Anck-su-namun replied. Nefertiri inclined her head, tightening her arms around her brother, then they both vanished. Mathayus held out his hand to her, and she found herself once more in the room where everything began. Where her redemption first began taking shape.  
  
Mathayus waved his hand over the mirror that would show them the battle in the world of the living. Anck held her breath as the fog lingered only for a moment, then cleared. Ardath was moving a bit stiffly, and Mathayus whispered, //She has a few bruises, Anck, but she will live. Khaldun is mortal now, and with one single action, she can drive him out of Jason Ferguson's body for good.//  
  
Anck did not ask what that one action was. She already knew, for she set things in motion, long before Seti's murder. The end game was playing out in front of her. She held her breath as her beloved sister removed the dagger from its scabbard, resting against her hip. Ardath lightly twirled in her hand, just as Nefertiri used to twirl her tridents. Anck swallowed hard as her friend began backing up. . .backing up.  
  
What was she doing? Anck shook her head, unsure what to think. This was not something she taught Ardath. Nor was it something Rameses taught her in their sessions, it was not even something she picked up from watching Nefertiri. This was Celia's doing. Anck swallowed hard, hoping that the gamble Celia was taking wouldn't end in her death. It couldn't end like that.  
  
She taunted Khaldun, taunted him and mocked him. Ridiculing everything. Everything she could think of, from his mother to his first lover, his first whore. She ridiculed his ability to fight, and the fact that a small woman was beating up on him. Khaldun glared at her, his dark eyes burning with hatred. He felt his loss in the spiritual plane, and while he was a coward, he wasn't stupid. He was trying to figure out her strategy. For that matter, so was Anck. Mathayus said quietly, //Go. Now. She will have need of you.//  
  
Anck started to protest, but it was then that Celia's needling of Khaldun finally hit on his true vulnerability. All pretenses, all illusions was stripped away. The prince gave a scream and rushed at Ardath. Anck screamed herself and closed her eyes. She couldn't watch, she couldn't see how this ended. She would betray her best friend one last time, because it hurt too much to do anything else. 


	21. Freedom

Here they are, the last two chapters! I want to thank everyone for reading, and an extra special thanks to those who reviewed. . .whether it was one time or for each chapter. The specific thanks will come at the end of the epilogue, which will be the next chapter to be posted.  
  
Part Twenty  
  
It was time to bring this to a close, so Ardath returned control of their shared body back to Celia. Ardath hurt Khaldun, made him pay for what he did to her, to Rameses, to her own little Ardeth, and to her Miriam. Now it was Celia's turn, Celia who suffered at the hands of this man as well. Celia, whose brother was trapped inside Khaldun, and it was she who could ultimately free him.  
  
Ardath wasn't sure of Celia's strategy at first. Until she learned from Anck, in a whisper in her mind, that Khaldun was engaged in another battle, on another level. And he lost. He lost to Ardeth, who avenged the kidnapping of little Miranda. That defeat made him more vulnerable, and in turn, he would be more careful. He would not be so quick to engage the woman. . .these women. And then, Ardath understood exactly what Celia was doing.  
  
She was goading him, spitting out things that would have never occurred to Ardath. She never talked while she fought, not even to goad her opponent. But until today, she never found herself in a life or death situation such as this, either. And in the end, Celia's gamble paid off. Khaldun roared in fury, in frustration, and one other thing. Something Ardath understood very well. Yes. . .she did know the anguish of never being good enough.  
  
He catapulted forward as Celia quietly drew her dagger. The dagger which she and Anck buried so long ago. . .the dagger. . . Ardath inhaled sharply. The dagger which once held her blood, when she and Anck used that same dagger to cut themselves as part of their vow as newly-made blood sisters. And with that understanding came another. Just as her love and Imhotep bound Khaldun all those years ago, Celia would now kill him, using a dagger that once tasted Ardath's blood. Full circle.  
  
There was barely enough time for Ardath to process this, before Celia drove the dagger deep into Khaldun's body. She stepped closer to him, whispering, 'That was for Ardeth.' Khaldun gasped, and the concubine realized that he was still clinging to Jason Ferguson's body and soul. But Celia ended that a half second later, as she drove the knife up into his black heart, adding, 'That was for Jason.' She tore the knife from his body, drawing an anguished moan of pain from Khaldun, and finished, 'And that was for me.'  
  
She stepped back and Khaldun fell to his knees, his eyes fixed solely on Celia, who stared back impassively. But inside, she was trembling with a combination of grief and rage. Inside, she was anything but impassive. And then, once more, Khaldun fell forward, his eyes going dead. His reign of terror ended, almost before it had a chance to begin. Almost. Many valiant Med-jai lost their lives to this man, but they were free now. They were all free.  
  
It was over, at least for this lifetime, but one could only deal with one problem at a time. Ardath took several cleansing breaths, calming her racing heart. Or rather, calming Celia's racing heart. Her reincarnation knelt in the sand, her head bowed as her body shook. Ardath knew the reason for her trembling. It was always how she reacted after a fight was successfully done, and the danger passed.  
  
Wait. What was that? Maybe it wasn't over after all, and unfortunately, both she and her reincarnation were running low on energy. Still, Ardath raised her head, sensing a shimmering around her. Someone from the Afterlife, or the Underworld, was coming to this world. Ardath reached down, her hand closing on the staff she was using only moments earlier. Nearby, O'Connell watched warily, ready to defend Ardath's child. About damn time, as the Americans said. But it wasn't necessary, for the figure coming through the portal was a friend, not an enemy.  
  
Ardath released the staff and breathed, 'Anck.' The younger concubine sensed the other woman's presence several times during her battle with Khaldun. Her friend bowed her head, then held out her hand almost shyly to Ardath. The concubine rose to her feet and took Anck's hand. A half second after that, she found herself in a fierce embrace that took her breath away. Ardath wrapped her arms around Anck, drawing her head to rest on Ardath's shoulder, and tightened her embrace as Anck's tears soaked her, or rather, Celia's clothes.  
  
'I am sorry, Ardath, I am so sorry! It was all my fault, I should have died, not you!' Anck wept. Ardath tightened her arms around her sister, saying nothing. She just held her, knowing that Anck blamed herself for Ardath's murder. But her friend merely gave her the goblet, she didn't poison the wine. For so long, Anck carried that guilt, but it was time for her to lay that burden down. Anck continued, 'I have done such terrible things, Ardath. I don't know how you can ever forgive me, how I can ever atone. . .'  
  
'I can forgive you, Anck, because I love you. I struggled with your misdeeds, but in the end, the only thing that matters is that I love you. And you helped us. It was you who removed the illusion, allowing us to see Khaldun, was it not?' Ardath asked and Anck nodded her head against her shoulder. Ardath continued, 'you have already begun to atone, my sister. There is another whom you must ask forgiveness of, though.'  
  
She hated saying it. Oh, how she hated saying that! She didn't believe Anck abandoned Imhotep, but Ardath knew Anck felt guilty nonetheless. The words had to be said, if her forever friend was to heal. Anck nodded, and Ardath continued with a proud look toward her child, who was just now beginning to regain consciousness, 'He brings honor to my name, does he not?' Anck pulled back, wiping away her tears with one hand, and responded with a reluctant smile.  
  
But Ardath was nothing if not persistent, and she gave Anck a loving little shake, adding, 'Admit it, he is a worthy namesake, Anck. I know you have come to care for him.' Anck gave her a rueful smile that told her that she was right, and Anck didn't like to admit it. Ardath rolled her eyes. Honestly, Anck could be impossible sometimes! She gave Anck another little shake, and her sister's dark eyes flashed with mischief. Right before she poked Ardath in the sides. Ardath gave her friend a mock glare, and then she forgot to breathe.  
  
Because standing where Khaldun had fallen was Rameses. It was time, then. Anck whispered, 'Go, my sister. I will look after them for you. You have waited three thousand years for this moment. Go. I love you.' Ardath hugged her sister fiercely. She didn't want to let go. Not just yet. Anck continued, 'Wait for me just a little while longer, my sister. I have unfinished business, but I promise I'll not be long. No more than thirty years.'  
  
Oh, well, that was something totally different! Ardath waited thirty centuries to be reunited with her forever friend, thirty years would be nothing at all. And she found, the second that Anck rushed into her arms, that anger toward her friend no longer existed. In the end, Ardath DID love Anck, and when you love someone, you can forgive her almost anything. Forgiveness. As if hearing her thoughts, Anck released her, whispering, 'Go to him. Celia can break the hom-dai. I will be at her side.'  
  
Rameses held out his hand to her, and Ardath whispered to Anck one last time, 'I love you.' She released her hold on Celia's body, whispering a good-bye to her reincarnation. Rameses took her hand and Ardath asked softly, 'Do you finally forgive yourself, my love? Do you finally understand that I forgave you a long time ago?' Rameses bowed his head, but a familiar smile played across his lips. Ardath snorted with no small amount of exasperation.  
  
But she continued, 'Then let us go, my prince. Our love story has been told. Now it is time for another love story.' Rameses kissed her hand, then drew her into his arms. Oh how she loved this man! She loved him as a fifteen-year-old concubine, and she would love him again through the ages. The cycle that was Anck-su-namun and Imhotep was broken. In time, Imhotep would love again. But that was another story, for another time.  
  
. . .  
  
Celia fell slowly to the ground, feeling suddenly bereft. It was Ardath's departure, she knew. She could finally love her Rameses in peace. Still, there was the matter of picking up the pieces. Celia didn't know where to start. Ardath told her that Jason was free, but did that mean he was dead? She didn't know. She didn't want to believe he was. He was her little brother, and she realized after all the betrayal and all the grief, that it did mean something after all.  
  
She buried her face in her hands, weeping quietly. Celia knew she had to get up, had to see to Ardeth, had to break the hom-dai. But she couldn't move. A hand touched her knee and a very familiar voice whispered, 'Don't cry, Ceil. Please don't cry. It's okay. I promise it's gonna be okay.' Celia lifted her face from her hands, to find her younger brother on his knees. Jason was weeping, and he whispered, 'Please forgive me, Celia.'  
  
She couldn't make a noise, but she could move after all. She flung herself into Jason's arms, and it was just that easy. Things weren't fixed between the brother and sister, but Ardath was right. When you loved someone, you could forgive just about everything, and Jason apologized. Something he never did before. He backed down, but never apologized. Jason held her, whispering, 'C'mon, we got work to do, big sis.'  
  
Celia laughed and allowed her brother to pull her to her feet, her knees feeling very unsteady. She ached all over, she was exhausted, but there was one more thing she needed to do before this was done. Celia said hoarsely, 'Grab the knife and clean the blood off it. Right before she left, Ardath told me how to break the hom-dai and burn out Ardeth's fever.' Jason moved to do as she asked, but found Anck carefully wiping off the blade. The woman quietly handed the dagger to Celia, who whispered, 'You have my thanks, Anck.'  
  
'And you have mine, Celia. Imhotep. I cannot ask you to forgive me. I know not if it was my spirit or Meela's that sent me away from you. But I do know that I hurt you, Imhotep, and for that, I must atone,' Anck replied, turning her attention to her former lover. Celia looked away, mentally preparing herself for what came next. She didn't really want to do this, but a promise was a promise, and Ardath told her that her man was healed. Mostly.  
  
"I do not know if I can forgive you. I do not know how. But perhaps I can learn," Imhotep answered as Celia slid a bit clumsily to her knees. She sighed and prepared herself for what she was about to do. Why this would work, Celia didn't know, Ardath didn't tell her that much. But the American was ready and willing to trust her previous incarnation. Imhotep ever so considerately left Ardeth's robes open, showing the wound.  
  
Celia slid the dagger across the palm of her hand, then pressed the blade against Ardeth's wound, chanting, 'A warrior's dagger, dipped in a warrior's blood, guided by a warrior's hand. . . I burn thee out, this fire which would take a valiant warrior's life.' The spell, Ardath told her, would burn out Ardeth's fever. He wouldn't recover overnight, even with that aid, but his recovery wouldn't take quite as long. Besides, Imhotep couldn't heal Ardeth's broken ribs.  
  
He groaned softly, his beautiful eyes clearing and focusing on her. Celia smiled and whispered, 'Welcome back, m'love. No, lay still, or I'll let Rick punch you again. And we both know how much he enjoyed it the first time. I bet he's been dying to do that forever.' Ardeth blinked, then his eyes narrowed, and Celia realized he would make O'Connell pay for that soon. She could see Rick agreed, just from the way he was glaring at her. She just smiled.  
  
'Rest, Ardeth, there's something I need to do,' Celia added. She raised the knife, now smeared in her blood as well as Ardeth's, and motioned for Imhotep to give her his hand. He hesitated, but then thrust it toward her. She wasn't keen on this, but said, 'This blade holds the blood of Ardeth Bey, as well as my own. I give to you, my blood, and with our blood, I break the hom-dai, wrongly cast by Hamadi Bey, and I release the Med-jai from their own curse.'  
  
With those words, she sliced open Imhotep's palm, and unbidden, the ancient words came to her, releasing Imhotep from being the Creature. Another voice chanted, and Celia vaguely recognized it as Anatol Bey's. The cut on Imhotep's hand shone silver for a moment, and then healed. Celia smiled faintly, saying, 'I cannot take away your immortality, Imhotep, only the curse. But you *are* free.' Imhotep stared at the cut, then at her.  
  
'You have my thanks, little queen,' he whispered. Imhotep shook his head slowly, murmuring, 'For so long, I have been the Creature, He Who Shall Not Be Named. I do not know what to do now.' Celia started to answer, but she heard something. For a brief moment, Ardath once more allowed her to see through her eyes, a final gift, and she saw Anck pushing down the lever which would once more place Hamunaptra under the ground. Trapping Khaldun.  
  
Celia looked at Rick O'Connell, who returned the stare. As hazel eyes locked with blue, and dust rained from the ceiling, the two Americans said in unison, 'Time to go!' Jason helped Celia to her feet, and Miranda flung herself out of Jonathan's arms, as if released from a spell. Celia caught her daughter in a fierce embrace, while Jonathan helped Rick with Ardeth. Evy grabbed Alex, and they dashed out of Hamunaptra, with Imhotep and Anatol bringing up the rear. She did not look back at the City of the Dead until they were all clear.  
  
And then, she looked behind her, to see her forever friend watching her. By all rights, she shouldn't have been there at all. She shouldn't have seen Anck's long black hair blowing in the desert air. But she was and she did. Anck raised her hand in farewell, a tiny smile gracing her lips. Celia was vaguely aware of a presence at her side. When she looked up, she was somewhat surprised to see Imhotep at her side.  
  
He could have remained behind, and died inside Hamunaptra. He was free now. But he chose to live, and followed them from the City. Brown eyes met hazel, and for the first time in ages, a mortal saw fear in Imhotep's eyes. Not only saw that fear, but lived to tell about it. If she chose to tell, which she would not. A gentle hand on her shoulder drew her attention to the plane that brought them here and Celia wondered what Ardeth said to the pilot to get him to stay.  
  
She looked into the bright and concerned blue eyes of Rick O'Connell, as he said very softly, "We have to go, now." Celia nodded her understanding, and she did understand. When she was a child, she heard one of her grandmother's friends say something that echoed in her mind through the years. //Let the dead bury their dead, for the living require us now.// Celia was relatively certain that it was a Bible verse, but she couldn't have said for sure.  
  
It was appropriate, however. With one last glance toward the necropolis, Celia allowed herself to be steered toward the plane and Ardeth. She allowed Rick to hand her daughter into Izzy's waiting arms, and smiled at Miranda's questions. The very young were so very resilient. After everything she went through today, Miranda was already asking Izzy about everything under the sun. And bless him for his patience, though she knew he was itching to go.  
  
Yes. Let the dead bury the dead. She had her daughter and a stubborn Med- jai chieftain to tend to. Rick put his hands on her waist, lifting her into the plane, even as Miranda pulled her to the back, where Ardeth lay. It was time for a new story to begin. 


	22. Epilogue, thanks, and Cast List

Epilogue  
  
The poems, 'The Promise' and 'Queen of my Heart,' were written by yours truly.  
  
It was the first time in almost two weeks he had time to himself, and as he always did when he needed to think, he went to the cliff overlooking Hamunaptra. His side still ached, and he still tired easily while his blood replenished itself. But he was recovering, and he was *so* tired of having people fuss over him. His mother, his two sisters, even Anatol fussed over him the last several days. It was annoying as well as humiliating.  
  
Celia, on the other hand, never hovered, never fussed. She spent a few hours a day with him and a few hours with Evy, practicing. Celia balked at that in the beginning. Evy was pregnant, after all, and Celia feared harming the baby. But Evy convinced her that it would be fine, and Celia finally agreed. They practiced for an hour or two each day, and Miranda never left her side in all that time. The little girl was finally growing confident once more that she would not be taken from her mother, and that her mother would not be taken from her.  
  
Imhotep was a source of worry, though he remained in his tent most of the time. He was still immortal, but he was no longer the bringer of death. And much to Ardeth's chagrin, he noticed Imhotep staying close to Celia when she wasn't practicing with Evy or with Ardeth. His mother believed that Imhotep recognized within Celia a kindred spirit. They were both strangers here, and unsure of their welcome. That was what brought Ardeth to this cliffside today. He informed the Council that Celia would be his bride. They accepted this, far more easily than he anticipated, then asked him to leave while they discussed this matter amongst themselves.  
  
Which did bother him, but his mother assured him that she would speak for Celia. As would Anatol, Garai, and Ardeth's sisters. Altair said very bluntly that his happiness came first with her, and Celia made him happy. Besides. It would be very difficult for them to say no to the reincarnation of one of their greatest heroines, even if she was an American. And during the last two weeks, Acacia and Aleta began teaching Celia the Med-jai ways.  
  
'I thought I might find you here,' a soft voice said as a pair of arms slipped lightly around Ardeth's waist from behind. Ardeth smiled as the arms slid around until Celia was at his side. She said, 'You always come here when you're troubled. Evy just told me that the Council shut you out of the meeting. Acacia also told me about that, and she said it's standard, whether a warrior is marrying a Med-jai girl or an outsider like myself.'  
  
'You are no outsider, Celia Ferguson. You have treated us with honor and dignity. But some of the Elders believe that the return of Lady Ardath should have been heralded by a prophecy, especially when her reincarnation was set to marry the Lady's own namesake,' Ardeth replied, putting his hands on her shoulders. More memories were awakened during the last several days. Not just of Rameses, but other lives, when he drove this woman away from him.  
  
And in each lifetime, he failed his people in some way, perhaps because he shut himself off from love, perhaps because he held himself apart. But the end result was the same. He whispered, needing to hear the words, needing to know things would be different, 'And I fear, Celia, that I will drive you away. You have not yet seen my dark side, my Celia, and I do not wish to frighten you.' Celia reached up, cupping his face in her hands.  
  
'You cannot frighten me, Ardeth Bey. I have seen you near death, and I have seen you laugh. I have seen you angry enough to kill, and I have seen you protect what is yours. I have known you, and loved you, in a thousand different forms over three thousand years. You cannot drive me away. It would be a waste of your energy to even try,' Celia replied. She smiled then, adding, 'Besides. Who said life would be easy with me? I'm thirty years old, I'm stubborn, I have a four year old daughter with a mind of her own, and Anck is still around.'  
  
'Stubborn? You? I had not noticed,' Ardeth teased and Celia responded with a mock glare which would have made him laugh, if his ribs didn't still hurt. Ardeth continued, 'Well, my sweet Celia, it would appear that we are, as O'Connell would say, stuck with each other.' He paused, gave her a rueful smile, then added, 'Although, I must remember to call him Rick now.' Celia grinned, obviously remembering the incident in question.  
  
They were on Izzy's plane, heading back to the Med-jai encampment. Ardeth, secure in knowing that Celia would be at his side, slept briefly. He awakened as Izzy settled the plane a short distance from the camp, and Ardeth murmured something to O'Connell, only to have the other man retort, 'Oh for. . .Ardeth! My name is RICK! We've saved each other's lives so many times.' Both ignored Celia's exasperated snort at this, and O' Connell continued, 'Don't you think it's time you started calling me Rick, or do you need an engraved invitation?'  
  
The imp called 'Anatol' piped up, 'Actually, that would help.' Both Ardeth and Rick glared at the young warrior, who just grinned and scampered from the plane. The American helped Ardeth up, stabilizing him, before carefully leading him from the plane. Celia lifted the drowsy Miranda into her arms, carrying her off the plane, and Evelyn followed suit with Alex, then Jason. The last to disembark was Imhotep, which almost led to a riot.  
  
'Wellllll,' Celia said, drawing the word out as she often did, and drawing Ardeth's attention back to her, 'I'm glad you've finally figured out that you're stuck with me. Rameses, schmamses. That's over. It's just us now, it's time for our love story to be written.' She cocked her head to one side, a faint smile appearing on her lips. Ardeth was learning to fear that expression. It usually meant she was up to no good.  
  
He was right. She began, switching to ancient Egyptian, 'I swore I would always love you, a thousand years or more. I told you that I would find you in each life. This, above all, I swore. My word is my honor, you should have known that I would still be your wife. Our names have changed, our situations, too. But here we are again, my king, and one thing remains true. My heart still belongs to only you.'  
  
Those words were hauntingly familiar to Ardeth, but it took him a few minutes to place them. By that time, Celia was smiling up at him and she said softly, 'The Promise. Written by a young Greek girl. Now, what was her name? Oh, yes, now I remember. Thalia. She fell in love with a handsome Med-jai warrior who could not accept her love. Ardath's memories aren't the only ones I have at my disposal, my love.'  
  
Ardeth wanted to scowl at her, but he knew of the memories she mentioned. They lived during the time of Cleopatra. He remembered being Rameses, and shamed by his behavior, could not accept the love of that young Greek girl. She refused to accept that rejection and remained among the Med-jai until her own death. There was no answer to the poem, 'The Promise.' He was the first reincarnation of Rameses to successfully reunite with his Ardath.  
  
So it was up to him. He stared down at her, studying her face intently, and answered in the same language, 'My heart, my angel, my queen. I never dreamed that I would be allowed this, to hold you again and taste your lips so sweet. I thought your quiet strength I would forever miss, I should have had more faith in you. In my Ardath, who could forgive me anything. My lovely queen, the woman I can never refuse. The woman who could make the lowliest peasant into a king.' A delighted smile was his reward.  
  
'You made that up yourself,' Celia stated, looking very pleased with him, and Ardeth allowed himself a shy grin. He wasn't sure. The words were simply there. Were they Rameses' words, or his own, or someone between them? Ardeth didn't know, and he supposed it didn't matter. The words pleased Celia, the queen of his heart. That was all that counted. He would have kissed her. He most assuredly *wanted* to kiss her. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.  
  
Mainly, in the form of his mother and sisters, all of whom came up the hill to join him and Celia. Altair Bey told him proudly, 'The Council has arranged the day for you to marry Celia. Anatol spoke up for her, telling of her courage in facing Khaldun. Acacia told of her willingness to learn our ways. And Aleta told them that she showed great kindness in hearing of your childhood stories. I told them that she made you happy, and Garai told them that she was the reincarnation of Lady Ardath.'  
  
Celia shifted in his arms, and Ardeth's mother gasped, 'Oh, sweet girl, forgive me! I did not see you there!' If it were not so disrespectful of his mother, Ardeth would have rolled his eyes. As it was, the matriarch continued, 'There is but one restriction. As the reincarnation of one of our greatest heroines, the Council wishes you to court Celia in the ways of the Med-jai. That means you cannot wed her for at least three weeks.'  
  
Three weeks. Ardeth waited for this woman for three thousand years. Three weeks would not be that difficult. He hoped. Celia just smiled, her eyes filled with joy, as if this was greater than she could have hoped for. Acacia added, 'It will not be easy, Celia. As I thought, there are many young women in our village, and others, who wished to marry Ardeth. But I have faith in you, and word will spread that I regard you as my sister.'  
  
'Perhaps you should have a word with Anck-su-namun, Celia,' Aleta put in, 'you did mention that she was staying her to watch over you. And already, there have been several unexplained accidents, involving women who regarded themselves as the most likely to win my brother's heart.' Acacia stared at their younger sister in shock, and Ardeth could almost hear his sister thinking, //so that is what happened!// Aleta added with a mischievous smirk, 'Mind you, it was quite funny.'  
  
'I should talk with her anyhow, try to keep her from doing anything dangerous. Ardeth, are you sure you want me? I mean, like I said, I'm a stubborn thirty year old woman with a small daughter who has a mind of her own. And not only will you get a stubborn wife and a determined daughter, but you'll also get a ghostly sister-in-law who isn't above pulling dirty tricks if she's so inclined,' Celia observed, looking up at Ardeth with a faint grin.  
  
Life would get very interesting, but Ardeth Bey would not wish things to be any other way. He replied, smiling down at her, 'A stubborn wife to give me stubborn children. A little girl who insists on receiving a kiss each time her mother does. Further adventures with the O'Connells. And a sister-in-law in the Underworld who delights in playing pranks. Far be it from me to separate the forever friends and I cannot imagine anything that would give me greater joy, my Celia, than to have you at my side. Regardless of the complications.'  
  
'Then, my love, you are indeed stuck with me,' Celia responded, laughing. Ardeth decided to throw caution to the wind. This woman was now officially his betrothed. In full view of his mother and sisters, in front of all the Med-jai who might be watching, Ardeth Bey, chieftain of the Med- jai, kissed the woman who would be his wife and the mother of his children to come. The queen of his heart, and his own forever friend.  
  
The End of the Beginning  
  
Thanks!  
  
Jonathanrules: Thank you very much! Be careful what you wish for. . .you might get it, though not in the form you were anticipating. You'll see your wish granted in the fourth story in this series, 'Priorities.'  
  
Deana: My eternal reviewer, without whose aid he last two stories wouldn't have been written. My thanks, to one of the ruling h/c queens in 'The Mummy.'  
  
Cindy: I'm glad to hear it. . .I'm not very good at fight scenes, so I watched the various confrontations in TMR repeatedly to help with the visualizations. And I LIKE doing stories that are different.  
  
Author's Note: As promised to nefertirioc, even though she is no longer with us, here is a cast list for the original characters in the fic.  
  
Celia Ferguson/Lady Ardath: No specific actress here, because Celia's hard to pin down, but the best candidate would be Dana Barron, who played Casey in 'The Magnificent Seven' tv-series.  
  
Jason Ferguson: Andy Kavovit, who played JD in the same series.  
  
Miranda Ferguson: Jodelle Ferland  
  
Khaldun: Nick Kiriazis, perhaps best known for his role as Father Antonio on Sunset Beach.  
  
Anatol Bey: Alexis Cruz, of Stargate  
  
Altair Bey: Another character difficult to pin down, but for sheer imagination purpose, Andrea Martin of 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding.' That's subject to change, if someone else makes me mutter, 'that's Altair.'  
  
Acacia Bey: Claudia Black, Aeryn Sun of Farscape. Ignore her blue eyes and Australian accent, and she does bear a striking resemblance to Oded Fehr, enough to make them plausible siblings.  
  
Aleta Bey: Mili Avital, the original Sha'uri in Stargate.  
  
Suleiman Bey: Francesco Quinn. I happened to catch an episode of 24 that he did, and I did a double take. He reminded me very strongly of Oded Fehr.  
  
Garai/Sennefer: Andreas Katsulas, who played G'kar on Babylon Five  
  
The rest of the Med-jai are being 'cast.' Kaphiri, Hanif, Andreas, Nicodemus, et al. . .although I'm leaning toward the young actor who played Yusuf in '24' for one of the Med-jai, I just have to figure out which one. And if someone else comes to mind for the above characters. . .go for it. I once received an email, telling me that a reader dreamed about a storyline I was working on, and in her dream, my OFC for that fandom, Adriana, looked like Sandra Bullock. Hey, I can live with that!  
  
Coming soon (after I catch my breath): the sequel to 'The Forever Friends,' 'A Med-jai Wedding.' In which Imhotep struggles to find his place in this new world, Jason tries to make amends, and Ardeth and Celia prepare for their wedding and struggle to overcome their respective insecurities. Oh yes, and we mustn't forget. . .Anck playing pranks! 


End file.
